


Ashes

by Derantor



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:13:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27658000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Derantor/pseuds/Derantor
Summary: The end of the world has come and gone. The Angel War has left deep scars on the planet and those who once inhabited it. But, for better or for worse, humanity was given another chance. Now it is up to every single person to take it or refuse. Two have made the choice already: they left the dream to face the future, whatever it may hold for them.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 29





	1. Luna

He let go of her neck and began to sob bitterly. He could not decide what to think or feel, lost between the realization that he wasn't alone or trapped in a dream anymore, and the terrible, hopeful premonition of what this would mean for him.

He gasped for air as acid crept into the corners of his eyes. He could feel her warmth with his thighs, a painful reminder of what he had almost extinguished forever. A despairing rasp escaped his throat, and slowly he hunched over, sinking onto the body below him.

* * *

She stared into the starry sky, but was unable to focus her gaze. Her field of view was curiously diminished, and her senses only sent unclear messages - everything was vague and nebulous. The outside world had to stand back behind her inner turmoil, as piece by piece, everything returned.

An indistinct tension grew stronger and stronger inside her. Everything seemed so clear and ineluctable, yet still almost impossible to grasp or understand. Confronted with absolute truth, torn between the urge to allow the insight to take hold and change herself, and the reluctance to truly accept what seemed undeniable to her, her mind failed to reconcile wish and reality. Her face stayed completely blank as long as she lay there, while her chest tightened into a knot. Slowly, feeling returned to her limbs, and finally, the tension became unbearable.

She looked down at Shinji. He cowered above her; his hands placed upon her shoulders, convulsing with sobs. For just one moment, this pathetic sight tore her from her thoughts, momentarily lifting the haze in her mind and bringing a single feeling to the fore.

"Disgusting." Her voice was completely cold, betraying no sign of her upheaval. Maybe she could have borne it if she was still alone, but just looking at him stirred up memories of what she had seen and felt in the dreadful hell of Instrumentality, this forced melding and laying bare of all spirits, this brutal and unnatural defilement of her innermost being.

Eventually, Shinji grew quiet. His body warmth slowly permeated the fabric of her plugsuit, his smell filled the lukewarm air. A mixture of LCL, old sweat, and unwashed hair.

With every breath she lifted him up a little, had to work against the added weight on her chest. She didn't want to admit it, but there was something consolatory in the intimacy of their situation. Far away from rational deliberations and objections was something primeval, something natural, in direct opposition to the artificial connectedness of Instrumentality.

She could feel his breath, his bones and muscles, his heartbeat – an ancient rhythm, a drum in the darkness.

The fingers of her right hand squirmed, grabbed a handful of sand and rubbed it against her palm. It was as if she was seeing the night sky for the first time; as if she had been blind to the innumerable tiny lights, which were bustling even in the dark splotches between the brightest stars and seemed to disappear when her gaze held steady for a while, just to reappear when her eyes made the tiniest of movements.

And somewhere, between the infinities of the distant stars and the cold grains of sand, there was life. Flesh and blood and a mirror, assuring her that her thoughts were her own again.

There, there was calm, comfort – and sleep.

* * *

A chilly breeze came from the sea and ruffled Shinji's hair. Hesitantly, he raised his head. Asuka held her eyes closed, her mouth hung open just a tiny bit, her breathing was shallow. Immediately he sat up and took his hands off of her, raising them up apologetically. Something squeezed his stomach as his gaze scurried over her bandages.

Asuka's lids parted, her eye rolled downwards in its socket, deigning him a deprecatory glance. Why couldn't he just lay still. Now her chest was growing cold.

"I'm ... I'm sorry! I ..." The words got stuck in his throat. Those that had escaped were carried off by the rushing of the waves.

Asuka looked back towards the stars.

Shinji hung his head.

Nothing had changed.

Absentmindedly he raised himself, grazing her legs with one foot as he turned around on the other. Just a few feet away, he stopped and looked dejectedly towards the horizon.

The blood-red sea shimmered in the moonlight, calmly sending waves towards the beach. Black mountains and islands stretched out to both sides, following a wide arc and disappearing behind the horizon. Near the beach, a few forlorn buildings clung to their life in awkward balance. Far out in the sea lay the giant, bisected head of Rei, completely white, except for her red eye, studying him with an enraptured gaze. Somewhere on the land behind the crater, her giant arm rose out of the reddish mist. The fingers of her hand reached for the stars, breaking through the thin veil of clouds slowly drifting across the night sky.

This was his world – he had created it.

He was the king of the wreckage.

* * *

Shinji’s movements had made it impossible for Asuka to just lie there and resign herself to her fate. The cool night air woke her up, forcing her to think about what would happen next. What had just been so pleasant gave way to unease.

She sat herself up, tucked her knees under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. With a dreamer’s unquestioning detachment, she noticed the two petrified white Evangelions standing in the shallow water - like giant crucifixes, holding out their arms to welcome her. The red glow emanating from the sea, mixing with the deep blue of the night sky, created a violet transition at the horizon. Except for the calming murmur of the sea, no sound reached her ears.

Her eyes were drawn to the missing sleeve of her suit - white bandages shrouded her arm instead. She raised her hand, beheld her fingers emerging from the white cloth covering her palm.

A dreadful notion rose from the back of her mind. Hesitantly she curled and stretched her lean digits, until she felt satisfied that they would still obey her commands, even though some numbness remained. With a low sigh she looked straight ahead again, only to notice a blurry shape close to her face.

The proximity gave her pause, until she realized what she was seeing. A moment later, her hand jerked towards her brow. There, she found a bandage and a thick gauze pad covering her eye. Her fingers slowly slid down, discovering the surgical tape holding it in place.

Still unable to truly focus, she tried to pull it off - all she wanted was to be rid of this annoying obstruction - but she couldn’t catch the tape with her thumbnail. Finally, she managed to get a hold of the strip, and swiftly pulled it off her cheek. The pad was only loosely held by the bandage now, and she tugged it off. For some reason, she felt it wise to keep her eye closed still.

She searched the fabric for traces of blood, but it was completely clean. Slowly she raised her head, and then she opened her other eye.

Nothing changed.

She blinked - and did it again. Twice. But her field of view was still restricted. Reluctantly she closed her healthy eye.

In her left, all she could see was a tiny, reddish point of light.

The pad fell out of her hand and her gaze went dull. Coldness crept over her limbs and face, and she began to tremble. She closed her eyes once more and opened them again, but the darkness in her left remained.

And suddenly she knew again why she did not dare to open it before. Just as the realization sank in, her heart struck a terrible beat - then it seemed to stop entirely.

Frantically, her fingers searched for her wrist, tried to feel her pulse. She didn't find the right spot; her tendons and her suit were in the way. Her hand shot to her neck, searching for the place where Shinji's fingers had dug into it, and finally she felt her blood punching wildly against her fingertips.

She clenched her lids shut, trying to calm her racing heart. A soft, stinging pain erupted from her eye and brow and jolted to two points at the back of her head. It all came back to her then. How could she have forgotten? How could she ever believe that she -

Something crunched in the sand and her head spun around. Shinji had taken a step towards her and, instinctively, she tensed.

“Asuka ... your eye!” His voice was barely a whisper. His lips started to quiver and his throat went dry as he beheld the results of his inaction. “I’m - I’m sorry! I -” His eyes darted towards the sea and the beasts, then back to her.

Her mouth opened, then she furrowed her brow. Her teeth clenched, her nose crinkled. Slowly, tensely, she rose. With balled fists she moved towards him, her face nothing but a grimace.

Shinji stood frozen in place, until her face was mere inches away from his. The horrible appearance of her bloodshot eye made his stomach turn. Red had consumed all the white and bled into the ring of blue. Caustic liquid rose in his esophagus, and he bowed his head.

“I’m sorry!” he forced out. Her glare seemed to burn into his forehead, and Shinji stumbled backwards a few steps to escape her crushing presence. Asuka towered before him, unflinching in what he knew to be utmost condemnation, as he continued his protestations of remorse.

“You shouldn’t have let go.”

Her cold and bitter voice sealed his lips instantly. Shinji fell to his knees; his hands grabbed the fabric of his trousers, in a desperate attempt to keep some semblance of control.

Slowly her expression changed; anger gave way to disgust, and finally she moved her stare to what once was Rei, a silent accusation in her eyes.

Shinji wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, unable to stop his sobbing. “I’m sorry”, he whimpered one more time.

Asuka turned around and left.

* * *

Her steps fell irregularly onto the sand, leaving behind shallow footprints. The beach she walked on followed a long curve. There were no clam shells or seaweed, no bird droppings or any other sign of life. The fine sand was completely smooth: an unnatural display of perfection.

After a few hundred meters, she stopped and listened. Nothing to hear, except the whispering of the sea, and yet, Shinji’s crying seemed to follow her still. Unconsciously, her hand went to her stomach, and with a frown she got moving again.

She couldn’t gain any distance. Every step brought another haunting memory with it, all of them conspiring to drag her back down to where she came from. More than once she felt as if she was sleepwalking, when the vision in her good eye darkened as well, and her thoughts took over completely.

Eventually she couldn’t force herself to go on. On its own, her hand reached for her stinging eye. Her fingers curled, clawing into the bandage on her brow. Part of her wanted to be rid of it; be rid of that stupid, useless eye, that would only ever show the last and final thing it saw, over and over again; that would never see sunlight or swaying grass or bright white clouds again. That beautiful eye that would never again stare back at her from the mirror.

Unconsciously, her right hand went to her stomach, holding it tightly, and she hunched over a little. More pictures flashed in front of her eyes as she squeezed them shut; a wild menagerie of innocent and cruel memories, and over and over again the twin tips of the spear which brought the darkness.

"Just leave me be!" She forced the words through her teeth, and in sudden anger, she hit her forehead with her fist, right above her damaged eye. At first she felt almost nothing, but after a few hits the pain was stinging so badly she was seeing stars. Bitter bile rose through her throat, making her writhe. She tried to take deep, regular breaths, as she had to fight down the urge to vomit.

When she succeeded, the barrage of images assaulting her had also died down. In its place were only the views and smells and sounds of the desolate beach, and the aches of her battered body.

The wind picked up, and a strand of her hair fell in front of her face. Gently holding it in place, she sniffed it. It smelled of LCL and a hint of shampoo, but not her own. Its fragrance reminded her of the hospital.

With a deep sigh she hung her head. The LCL in the saltwater had not made it breathable. Her hair was dry, so she must have been back for hours – wherever here was. The absurd thought that she had been transported to hell entered her mind, and was dismissed just as quickly. Letting her gaze wander confirmed that this was still Japan - or what was left of it.

Not a single pebble lay on top of the sand. Billions of tiny grains, one just like the other. The few that differed in color almost disappeared in the sea of white - red and blue abnormalities.

To her left the beach became a dune, while dark mountains rose in the background.

To her right there was only the sea.

In front of her nothing but sand.

After staring at her feet for a few minutes, she suddenly became aware that her heart was pounding in her chest again. Her breath became ragged and fast, goosebumps began to cover her skin.

"Enough!", she pressed out. "It's enough already!"

She bit her tongue, but the memories kept coming.

She clutched her head, but the voices didn’t stop.

A sound reached her ears, and she realized she had begun to scream - but her thoughts just wouldn’t listen, no matter what she said.

* * *

Shinji had hunkered down on the beach, watching the ever changing but steady play of the waves. He had heard Asuka slowly approaching for some time. He closed his eyes, unable to keep his shoulders from tensing up. He realized again that uncertainty tormented him most. That was just an excuse, Rei had said. But an excuse for what?

She had almost reached him now, and on pure instinct he tried to make himself as small as possible. All he dared to hope for was that the punishment she had in store for him would be over quickly.

Her steps stopped right behind him. For a long time, nothing happened – until something touched his shoulder and made him flinch.

"Let's go."

Shinji sharpened his ears, but other than the faint resonance of her hoarse voice, he couldn’t hear anything. He opened his eyes and looked to his left.

Long, thin fingers were lying on his shoulder, and retreated as he began to turn around. He lifted his gaze and followed her slender form upwards as she straightened her posture, trying to read her expression.

Asuka stood upright, her gaze lost somewhere in the distance. After excruciatingly long seconds, she looked down to him, but the look in her eyes was missing its usual edge; it had given way to something else. She regarded him intently, then abruptly turned away again, leaving Shinji to stare after her.

Only when she had moved a good ten paces did he scramble to his feet. When he had almost reached her, she stopped and turned to face him, bringing him to a sudden halt.

Shinji looked down towards his feet. His right hand curled into a fist and released again. "I .... I have found … a place", he whispered. The words felt unfamiliar to his tongue: he had not spoken this much in a long time. "In - in the mountains. There's water and ... something to eat."

"Then lead." An undercurrent of impatience ran through her voice.

Shinji chewed on his lip, overcome with sudden trepidation. His fist clenched nervously, as he already doubted the wisdom of his offer. Slowly he turned around, towards the mountains on his left. Eventually he gave her an almost imperceptible nod and began to walk.

After a moment, Asuka forced herself to follow him.

* * *

They had a long walk ahead. Asuka soon caught up with Shinji, and he led her over the dunes and across the ruins. He knew the trail, having walked it every day. Her presence drove him forward, while she followed him in deep brooding, paying no attention to the destruction surrounding her.

Only the most massive buildings still stood. White stone debris - boulders, gravel and sand - covered everything. They had to take constant detours, bypassing patches of loose, muddy earth and hills of debris. Glass and rubble crunched under their steps. Fires must have burned some time ago, as the air still smelled of soot and charred plastic. A wooden house, almost intact, had been swept up and turned on its head by the flood wave – a seemingly impossible accident, which almost turned the grotesque scenery farcical.

Silently they paced over ever rising ground, away from the giant crater that was left in the wake of Third Impact. Up here, small depressions and pits were still filled with red water; the rest had receded already. After about one and a half hours they reached the foothills of a forested mountain range. Of the trees themselves, mostly trunks and stumps remained, while some had been ripped out of the ground entirely.

Shinji followed a half-buried road, which led them into a valley spanned by three damaged highway bridges. Beside the road, a small stream gurgled in its rocky bed, made up of the same white stones they had seen before. Fine dust hung in the air. It made their eyes feel grainy and left the taste of iron in their mouths.

After following the road for a little while, they found themselves in front of a long apartment block, which had been built in an artificial recess in the mountainside, a brutish example of post-Second-Impact architecture. The massive concrete walls had even withstood Third Impact, even though most windows had been blown out by the explosion.

Shinji searched his pockets until he found the key, evidence of the age of the building. He turned it in the lock, gripped the door handle and leaned back. His weight was just enough to pull the door open against the resistance of the damper.

As soon as Asuka had pushed past him, he slipped inside himself.

When they finally arrived on the fourth floor, they were both completely out of breath. In the darkness, Shinji felt for the keyhole of one of the nearby apartment doors. He fumbled with the key, needing several tries before managing to unlock it.

In comparison to Misato's spacious apartment, the flat was tiny. Shinji had cleaned the place as well as he could, sweeping shattered glass, dust and debris off the balcony. He had spanned bed sheets in front of the windows and the splintered glass door leading to the balcony, which let in some moonlight but held back the wind. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink, the kitchen table was battered, and a broken chair lay in one corner, along with empty cans and other trash. Without a word, Asuka went past him and collapsed into a chair, leaving Shinji uncomfortably unoccupied.

"Do you want to ... Are you hungry?" He spoke softly, glancing at her from under his fringe.

Asuka shook her head.

Shinji nodded. He felt the urge to say more, but he could find neither the words nor the courage to do so. Asuka was blankly staring at something invisible beyond the wall, seemingly no longer aware of his existence, while his senses refused to focus on anything but her.

He felt his chest tighten. Even as subdued as her presence was, it was still too intense for him to withstand. Every breath she took made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up; every second that passed carried with it the danger of him becoming the target of her attention once more. He knew what lurked beneath her deceptively calm surface; the bitter molasses of what remained unsaid leaked into the air, making it too thick to swallow.

He took a few careful backwards steps. Asuka didn't seem to notice. Still on his toes, shoulder close to the wall and never letting her out of his sights, he retreated into the dark hallway. After a few steps, the space to his right opened up, leading him to the bedroom and the safety of a closed door.

* * *

Shinji’s absence only entered Asuka’s mind with great delay. She vaguely recalled seeing him disappear out of the corner of her eye and, overcome with sudden urgency, she went after him.

A sturdy looking wooden door blocked her path. Her hand reached for the handle, hovering over it for a moment, before retreating again. Shaking her head, she turned on her heels and went to the balcony.

There, she leaned over the railing. A cool breeze rustled the trees, stripping off leaves and blowing her hair in her face. She swiped the strands back with her bandaged hand, held them behind her ear, and stared silently into the night. If she concentrated enough, she could count the tiles of the pavement, three floors beneath her. In the diffuse moonlight, everything seemed grainy, as if shot on old film. How high was a story? Three meters?

The steel of the railing dug into her stomach. Vague memories of her stepmother and her father came to her, making her bare her teeth. Stepmother had been afraid of her, and Father had abandoned her. She didn't want to see either of them again. Or anybody else, for that matter. She wouldn't be able to bear being in their sight. Nobody would be able to take her seriously ever again; not after they had taken a look deep inside of her.

She straightened herself, and her gaze was drawn towards the ocean shimmering in the distance. The night was almost over; the coldest hours approached. It was still relatively mild, but to her it felt icy.

She let go of the railing and fled back inside.

* * *

The couch in the living room was comfortable, but sleep would not come to her. Visions and dreamscapes of Instrumentality occupied her mind’s eye, refusing to fade, making it almost impossible for her to focus on the reality surrounding her.

For almost an hour she tossed and turned.

Eventually she stood up, swiftly crossed the apartment and found herself in front of Shinji's door again. This time, she opened it a tiny crack. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness and the sun was close to the horizon, so she could faintly make out Shinji's silhouette on the small, western style bed. He was lying with his back towards her and seemed to be asleep.

Reluctantly she opened the door far enough that she could barely fit through the gap. She cursed under her breath when her suit hit the frame and squeaked. Making sure that Shinji still wasn’t awake, she closed the door behind herself and tiptoed towards the bed.

Shinji lay entirely still. For minutes she just stood there, watching his faintly rising and sinking chest. He seemed so small. So harmless.

She closed her eyes and slowly let out a deep breath. Nobody was around. Nobody could possibly see her. Opening her eyes again, she shot a glance towards the door, then took him in once more. Her brow furrowed as she made her decision.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, she laid down besides him. Back to back - and without contact. She wanted to draw the blanket over herself, her body demanding the familiar warmth and comfort, but decided not to. Her lids felt heavy, and yet, as if they would never close.

* * *

Asuka was rudely woken up as something hard hit her back and tried to bury itself in her ribs. She rolled out of the bed and came to her feet. Light was stinging in her eyes. She didn't remember falling asleep, and it felt as if she had been unconscious for mere seconds.

Turning around, she saw Shinji thrashing wildly in his sleep, yanking back his elbows as if trying to fight off some invisible attacker, grinding his teeth so hard she could hear the screeching when they scraped on top of each other. A sound like nails on chalkboard; it made her own teeth tingle.

When he began to moan pained, unintelligible pleas, she couldn't stand by any longer. Grabbing one of his wrists she tried to yank his arm and shake him awake, but Shinji didn't budge. Instead, his free hand almost hit her square in the face. Glowering at him, she catched his other wrist and swung herself over him, planting one knee on either side of his hips. He strained against her with surprising strength, and she needed all of her own to keep him restrained.

Suddenly his eyes shot open, and he pulled himself into a sitting position, almost topling her over. Whatever terror had gripped him seemed to linger, until recognition dawned on his face and he froze.

Asuka tentatively let go, but didn't lower her guard.

Shinji closed his eyes and fell back onto the mattress. He covered his face with his arm and bared his teeth – it looked like he had to fight the urge to cry.

Asuka felt her facial muscles relax somewhat, and with a deep sigh, she sank down, resting her buttocks on his thighs. She let her hands fall into her lap, and by doing that, onto his trousers as well.

Shinji ripped his arm away from his face, pushed himself up on his hands and wriggled out from underneath her, as far as he could.

When she looked up and saw his ungrateful, panicked expression, she climbed out of the bed, threw the door open and stormed off.

* * *

The incident wouldn't leave her mind as she paced in the kitchen. Feeling her frustration growing, she pulled out one of the chairs and sat down at the table. Her fingers drummed on the surface, and entirely unbidden, her bladder signaled that it needed relief. She tried to ignore it, unwilling to be disturbed in her brooding, but eventually, the pressure grew too strong.

She went to the bathroom and was about to shed her plugsuit when she paused.

She pressed the lever to flush. Except for the hollow sound of the mechanism, nothing happened.

With an angry curse she grabbed a roll of toilet paper and set out for the long way down the stairs.

In the daylight she noticed that everything was thinly covered by red dust. Almost imperceptibly it floated down from the sky, giving even the sunlight a red tint. Dead foliage drifted over the dusty street. The leaves of some trees were brown, while others had already shed theirs completely. The sun was still singing relentlessly, but she could have sworn that it was a little colder than before Third Impact. She took a moment to take in the strange scenery, tasting iron on her tongue, then she got moving again with a head shake.

Behind the house she looked around, reassuring herself that nobody was watching her. Instinctively she closed her eyes as she activated the air intake of her suit, as if she would become invisible by doing so. She opened the clasp on her collar, and the pack attached to the back of the suit dragged it off her shoulders. She felt incredibly exposed as the air cooled her sweaty skin; yet curiously enough, not around her midsection. She opened her eyes a little to see what the cause was – and that was when she noticed the bandages.

She hadn't felt them, but only because they seemed to blend in with her skin in the wet heat of her suit. Held in place by surgical tape, they started on her pubic mound and reached all the way up to the bottom of her breasts. The bandage around her arm reached up over her shoulder and was slung around her chest from there.

Her thoughts went to her last battle immediately, and they would have stayed there, if her bladder didn't painfully remind her of its existence. Hurriedly she stepped out of her suit, closed her eyes and squatted down.

The relief helped her only a little bit with her feelings of disgust and shame. She used the toilet paper, felt around for her suit and struggled to get inside. Only when it fit itself tightly to her skin with a hiss did she dare to open her eyes again. She raised her right arm, expecting to see the small display showing her life signs and the suit's remaining charge.

Of course, that specific sleeve had not grown back overnight.

Grunting a curse, she went back to the flat.

* * *

Back in the living room, she collapsed onto the couch. A low-slung table stood in the middle of the room, two sitting mats on either side. She crossed her legs and put her hands behind her head, letting her foot bob nervously. Then she stretched her right arm straight ahead and opened her hand, as if she was grabbing something out of the air. Her gaze lost its focus, the bandage turning into white smudge as her arm began to tingle. Slowly she closed her fingers again and let her forearm come to rest on her eyes. Moving her hand to the back of her head, she tried to breathe deeply, in an effort to push the memories back down. Involuntarily she grit her teeth, clutching her head so much that it hurt.

"I've got fresh clothes for you."

Shinji's softly spoken words ripped her from her thoughts. She moved her arm off her eyes and onto her brow. In his hands he held carefully folded garments. She shot him a short glance, then she looked away.

"I'll stay like I am."

"I - I understand. Do you want to ... want to eat something?"

She shook her head. "I want ..." She trailed off and stared towards the ceiling. Her jaws clenched; her expression grew tense. A thousand things she _didn't_ want came to her mind, along with countless reasons why she shouldn't be here. Eventually she closed her eyes and gave herself a shake.

"How long have you been here?"

"I don't really know. A week, maybe."

Asuka needed a moment to understand the implications. Her time inside Instrumentality had felt no longer than maybe an hour – or an eternity. Her only goal had been to leave that place as fast as she could, and that she did.

Apparently not fast enough.

"Have you seen anybody else?"

"No."

Asuka massaged her brow with her thumb. Her bandage felt damp.

"Maybe it's for the best", she finally said. "If it's only the two of us, I mean."

"Yes, we are ... you are ..." Shinji's voice was quavering.

She stopped her movements. Then she turned her head towards him, looked directly into his eyes and contorted her face. "Damn ... just looking at you ..."

Shinji averted his eyes, clenched his fist and opened it again.

Asuka frowned. "You'd prefer it if somebody else came back."

Yes, that was what he wished for. He just didn't know how to handle her. He had seen and felt her memories and feelings, but he didn't know if those were real or just his imagination. For a moment he even thought he completely understood her, but Misato interrupted him. Or his perception of Misato, anyway.

An old photograph came to his mind. He and all his friends were in it, and everybody was smiling - himself included. Toji had slung his arm around his neck, while Asuka had laid her hand on his shoulder, showing the devil's horn with her right hand, both proud and supportive of him. Even the bridge crew was there, including Fuyutsuki and Ritsuko. Only Misato looked somewhat skeptical, possibly because Kaji leaned into her and was touching her hip. She was always so shy with him around. His father was luckily absent, so that nothing disturbed the pleasant, happy atmosphere.

Unfortunately, nobody had ever taken this picture.

He noticed Asuka still fixed on him.

An honestly meant, melancholic smile blossomed on his face. "I'm so glad to see you again."

Asuka held her gaze a little while longer, then she looked away. "You’re a bad liar, you know that?"

Shinji's smile died.

She sat up and pulled her hair behind her ears. "Whatever." She rubbed the base of her nose. "I'm hungry."

"I ... I have to search for firewood." Shinji lowered his gaze.

"Then go. And hurry." Asuka laid back down and turned her back towards him.

After a moment's hesitation, Shinji nodded and left the apartment.

* * *

As soon as he was out in the open, he traced a circle on the palm of his hand with his finger. The skin had been discolored there, after the spears had hit him. Now there wasn't a single trace of that to be found. And yet, her eye was ...

Pushing away the implications, he glanced down the street and got moving.

In the daylight he could already see from a distance the car wreck where he had found the apartment key. It had been tucked in the clothes of the driver, left behind when his body was dissolved. The man had been a foreigner named Nathaniel Pollard. In his wallet Shinji had found a few bills, the man's address and a picture. It showed a young woman standing behind what must have been her daughter, hugging her from behind. Only then had he realized which consequences his choices had on the real world.

He later buried the clothes at the side of the road. He had stumbled upon the apartment by mere accident after he followed the road for a while and recognized the address. Staying there was as good as anywhere else; there was no point putting more distance between himself and the beach. He couldn’t escape its pull anyway.

It must have taken a few days after that before he erected the graves on the shore of a small lake filled with LCL-stained water. At first he had tried to keep track of time, but after five days, everything became a blur, and he gave up. He cut all the names of people he knew into the wood – every single one he could remember except one: Ayanami Rei. Then he nailed Misato's cross to one of the poles and went to the beach one final time.

His plan had been simple: He would just go into the water and wake up back in Instrumentality. That way, he could at least warn the others not to return. Instead, he almost drowned and washed up on the beach by accident again.

And then she came.

His pace accelerated. She had told him unambiguously what she thought of him: she'd rather be dead than in his company. It really could not get any clearer than that. So why did she come back to him? Why did she follow him to his shelter? Was she already thinking about how to hit him the hardest? Did she just intend to raise him up a little so that his fall would be all the more painful? His heart stung at the thought of her never giving him what he wanted.

"Idiot!" he scolded himself. Whatever Asuka wanted to do to him, he deserved it. He had forfeit his right to happiness, that much had become clear to him upon his return. Egoistic needs and desires didn't appertain to him, much as he didn't deserve a long, peaceful life where he eventually learned to live with himself. The realization still stung; but there was no way to deny the truth, no matter how painful it was or how hard to accept it seemed. He had to come to terms with it, one way or another. He was not allowed to run away any longer.

Wiping his eyes he climbed on top of a mountain of rubble, looking for wooden debris he could use to build a fire. He had to be careful not to hurt his hands, as he hadn't found any medical supplies yet.

He wasn't doing this for himself; he was doing it for Asuka. But maybe taking care of her was pure egoism as well. It made him feel better. It allowed him to forget the world he had created. He was simply fulfilling a selfish need.

He sighed deeply and hung his head. As much as he tried, he just couldn't fathom the extent of his actions. Never before had a single human being dissolved all of mankind and irreversibly changed the world forever. How should he handle that? Where could he even hope to begin? Concentrating on Asuka amounted to not much more than trying to escape his guilt, but abandoning her was just as bad. The only decisions left were the wrong ones ...

In frustration he threw another piece of wood onto the street behind him. To his left he could see the burial mound, and behind it, in the distance, Rei's petrified head, still smiling at him.

"What should I do?" he whispered towards her.

She didn't answer. She never did.

* * *

He returned carrying a heavy load of wood and went directly to the balcony, not willing to start a fire in the flat itself. Asuka stood at the railing, looking towards the sea. She must have been standing in the sun for some time: her hair looked damp around her ears. 

"About time." She didn't even turn around.

Without comment, Shinji started to build his fire. He crumpled a few pages of a newspaper into little balls, piling up the wood on top. It took a few tries to get his lighter working, but soon a small fire was crackling.

Asuka had meanwhile taken a seat close to the wall. He could feel her eyes on him as he gathered his ingredients, a small wok and a pot, and carefully avoided looking in her direction. Using the pot and some bottled water to cook some rice, he took extra care to hide his last can of meat from her as he opened it. The label said it was pure corned beef, but to him, it smelled like dog food. He was sure she wouldn't appreciate the smell either as he sat on his heals and emptied the can into his wok.

Gently roasting the meat with some salt and pepper took care of the worst stench – it even became somewhat appealing. He heard Asuka shuffling behind him – then she stood up and moved close to him. So close that her legs were almost touching his back. He was sure he could feel her body heat, and couldn't help but grow tense as she leaned over his shoulder to take a look at what he was cooking.

"Will it take long?"

"Uhm … It's - it's about ready." Shinji stirred the contents of his wok a little too nervously, sending a small chunk of meat flying into the embers.

Asuka's stomach grumbled, and she finally backed away again.

"I'll be waiting inside. This heat is unbearable."

* * *

Asuka shoved another big morsel into her mouth. While chewing she glanced at Shinji, who was eating much more hesitantly, watching her every move with intense nervousness. A flicker of irritation colored her expression, and she focused on her bowl instead.

"You know", she mumbled with her mouth full: "You always had a talent for cooking." She swallowed and raised her head slightly, carefully observing his reactions. "And playing the cello."

Shinji's eyes shot up in utter surprise. A second later, he looked down, failing to hide the hint of redness on his cheeks. "I ... I'm glad you like it", he mumbled. "I know it isn't much and ... and ..."

Asuka furrowed her brow, then she held out her bowl for him to grab. "Just give me seconds."

He eagerly obliged and hurried to the balcony. Asuka used the moment to take a deep breath, but her frown had only lifted slightly when Shinji returned.

"Here!" He dabbled with conjuring up an insecure smile while he handed her the bowl. "Please enjoy your meal."

Asuka tried to grab the bowl but she miscalculated a tiny bit, hitting it with her fingertips. Shinji nearly let go before she managed to get a hold of it. She tilted her head slightly, carefully rubbing her left eye. Moving much slower than usual, she took her chopsticks from the table.

Shinji fidgeted in his chair as she took another few hesitant bites. The air had just become much harder to breathe.

Asuka stilled her movements. "How does it look?" she asked quietly.

"Uhm ... what do you mean?" Shinji once again avoided looking at her, folding his hands in his lap instead.

"What do you think?" She dragged her eyebrows lower. "My eye."

Shinji looked up for just a moment, before averting his gaze again. "It's ... it's red."

Asuka nodded grimly. "Like Rei's?"

He shook his head. "No, uhm ... it ... it is still blue, but ... the white. It's red now."

"So, it isn't so bad, is that what you're trying to say?"

Shinji stared at his hands. "No, it's ... it's ..."

"So it _is_ bad?"

He didn't have it in him to look up.

Asuka's gaze buried itself in his forehead. "So?" A dangerous undertone rang in her voice. She slowly resumed eating without letting Shinji out of her sights. With his eyes hidden behind his fringe, he seemed to shrink before her; even his breathing had grown shallow.

Suddenly the food seemed absolutely tasteless to her. She placed her chopsticks on top of her bowl, holding it in front of her chest with both hands. She straightened out, leaned back a little and focused on her bandaged hand.

"Well ... pity ..." she whispered.

Shinji visibly tensed.

She held her half empty bowl out over the table, then she let go. It hit the tabletop with a bang; the chopsticks jumped off and clattered to the floor.

"Get out", she hissed.

Shinji jumped up and disappeared.

Asuka angrily rubbed her forehead, which had begun to sting again. Then she stood up and threw herself onto the couch. The bandage around her head had become loose and annoyed her, so she ripped it off. It got entangled with her neural connectors, and when she finally managed to get it off she carefully felt for her brow. There was a small indentation on her forehead which hadn't been there before.

For a moment she held her fingers still, then she punched the headrest.

* * *

The acoustic alert of her suit woke her from a hazy nightmare. She needed a moment to recognize her surroundings. The sun had already set and Shinji was nowhere to be seen. The suit beeped urgently once more, then its tension disappeared and it expanded. Its energy reserves were entirely depleted. She had apparently miscalculated how long they would last. Maybe the damn heat was at fault.

Asuka sat up and opened the clasp on her collar, and the suit slid from her shoulders. Her skin, moistened by her sweat, immediately cooled in the night air, an incredible release after the ardor inside the suit.

She looked down at herself, then she shot a quick glance towards the kitchen. Holding up her suit, she snuck to Shinji's door.

It was closed. Again. She listened for a moment, then she slinked back to the living room. Standing right in the middle, she let go of her suit. After pulling her legs out of it, she pushed it away with her foot.

Gingerly she examined the bandages on her stomach. The skin below felt numb, but even when she pressed down harder it didn't hurt. Absentmindedly she ran her hands over her body, making sure that everything was still in place. As if on their own, they came to rest on her breasts while she silently stared out of the window.

Forcefully she tore her hands away. The clothes that Shinji had brought her still sat on the table. She dug through the pile, throwing away whatever didn't please her. There was no bra to be found, even though Shinji had, of course, managed to find panties. With an angry glower she grabbed a pair of shorts and a mauve shirt and got dressed.

Once she was ready she whirled around, ran through the hallway to his room and threw the door open. She found Shinji curled up on his bed, muttering in his sleep. She came closer, planted herself in front of him and leaned forward.

She was just about to shake him awake – but then she let her arms hang loosely at her sides instead. She bit her lip and slowly turned around. With her head hung low, she shuffled back to the living room, sat down on the couch and stared blankly at the wall.

It was over. It was finally over. There was no point pretending any longer. She had lost everything. Neither was she a pilot, nor useful for anything else. She couldn't even be looked at anymore! Her failure had literally been burned into her forehead. For a long time, she just sat there, unable to believe what she had become.

With an angry scream she shot up, balling her fists in impotent rage, unable to verbalize the thoughts filling her mind with red mist: Everybody had betrayed her! Everybody had used her! Everybody had been better than her! Everybody had been more important than her! And everybody had made decisions for her!

Her father, incapable of being something special himself, who had paraded her around like a trained monkey, who had got off to her successes, who had only married Mama to bathe in the glory of her name; Kaji, who had preferred to hand her off to that skank Misato over taking care of her himself, who had used her as a lever to pry open Misato's legs and laugh at her while he stuck his cock into all her disgusting, alcohol-drenched holes, who had sucked up Misato's stinking breath and drank her putrid outflow as if they were nectar and ambrosia, only to then never show up again and explain himself;

the people in charge of NERV in Germany and the commander in Japan and his geriatric, senile surrogate, for whom she was nothing more than an easily replaced cog in the machine; Rei, who had followed every order so perfectly, who even beat her at that sordid, ridiculous charade she had to play with Shinji; Rei, who, completely fearlessly, viewed even death as just another part of her job; Shinji, Shinji, the invincible Shinji, the prodigy, who always was the deciding factor, who didn't even need to waste a thought on his talent, who didn't even recognize it because it knew no bounds, and was supported by his Mother always holding his hand, who rose faster and better and higher than her, while she fell apart because of a failed kiss; Shinji, who was coddled and cared for and was tearfully missed for a whole month, who wasn't even sent to help her, while she was forgotten about for a week and left to rot in a rusty bathtub in her own piss;

Rei, the only one worthy to be smiled at by the commander, who always got the secret missions, who was even allowed to handle the spear, but only after they had proven once and for all how useless she herself was when fighting Arael; Ritsuko, who was allowed to treat her like a lab rat, who in her perversion was even allowed to turn the camera in the corridor back on while she had to walk naked to a synch test, whose orders she had to follow even though she was nothing but an old embittered dried up hag; Father and Stepmother and everybody else who had complete control over her life, who used lies and phony praise and made-up degrees to set her on her path and controlled her every step;

Misato, who had dared to chastise her and meddled in the way she fought, begrudging her the taste of victory, who had never even asked her how she was, because she always cared for Shinji more; all the people who conspired to take Mama away from her; Rei, who had ripped her from her mother's arms and the claws of a hero's death against her will; Shinji, whose mere wishes were orders to a god, who got to decide the fate of the world while she – while she hadn't even been asked, not once! Nobody had _ever_ asked her what _she_ wanted; she always had to fight and scream and beg and lie just to get her tiniest wishes fulfilled and she still never got what she wanted! It was always her who had to compromise and share, who had to adjust and forsake her dreams, just because somebody else wanted it that way!

She _hated_ them! All of them! She hated, hated, _hated_ them!

She stood there, balling her fists and barely able to control her trembling, desperate for something she could hurt, when she suddenly had a terrible realization. There was one thing she had decided and which had truly mattered in the end. Free from constraints and obligations, she had made her choice and granted herself one single, profound wish: she had rejected Shinji when he had begged her to save him. Because he was useless to her! Because he deserved to be hurt! Because she hated him! Because it was her right to refuse him! Because he wanted to use her! Because he wanted to force her to love him! Because it wasn't her responsibility to bear his burden! Because he had disappointed her too often! Because he was never there in time. Because he could not give her what she wanted …

Only when his hands had closed around her neck did she realize just how deeply her words had cut, how desperate he was. Then she had seen it through his eyes: his whole life. To him, it was like she had pushed a knife into his stomach and now indifferently watched as he bled out in front of her.

He just didn't want to die. But with her words she had added the last links to a chain made out of bitter disappointments, crushed hopes and broken dreams, now heavy enough to drown him.

He had hoped that she would understand him, because he had realized that she was just like him. Despite everything, he had believed in her.

But she had not comprehended that. She had just wanted to stubbornly enforce her will, and she had failed. Like always and at everything. And because of that, Shinji had taken the whole world with him when he finally fell.

Maybe he already had suspected it when he came to her in the hospital. Maybe he had subconsciously realized back then how it would end, who she really was: a pretty, callous doll, good for nothing except to be used and stared at and admired from afar.

Nobody would do that ever again. What had been admired was Asuka: a lie, a facade. In truth, she was nothing but deception and weakness and childish egoism; she understood that now. But if she were to give up on that lie, then nothing would be left of her.

Then Asuka would die.

"I don't want to die", she whispered into the silence.

She grabbed the table. Her teeth scraped on top of each other, a small piece of one of her molars splintering off.

"I don't want to die!" she screamed, and with all her might she sent the table crashing into the shelf in front of the wall.

* * *

Shinji sat upright in his bed, holding his knees to his chest and listening while Asuka laid waste to the living room. He didn't dare to go to her. He would do it tomorrow morning. He definitely would. Maybe it was foolish, but he just had to do something. Too often had he refused to act, too often had he been too late. This time would be different - he just needed a little time to steady himself. He told himself that, even though he didn't believe himself.

He would still do it. Definitely.

* * *

Shinji had already been waiting for her for hours by the time she finally entered the kitchen in the late afternoon of the next day. He had prepared everything; he went over everything he wanted to say countless times.

The sight of her caused another wave of stinging compassion in him. She had heavy bags under her eyes, her face was pale, her hair was disheveled, and she still wore the clothes from the day before.

Grimly she sat down at the table in strained brooding.

Shinji clenched his fist and opened it again. He closed his eyes for a second, then he gave himself a push.

"Gu- … guten Morgen!" He had worked on the pronunciation for a long time, hoping it would please her.

Asuka ignored him.

Shinji began to falter. She must have taken it as a bad joke. His whole plan seemed very unwise to him all of a sudden. For a moment he studied her, then he slowly turned around, looked back insecurely one more time, and hurried to the balcony.

He returned soon after, a steaming bowl of noodle soup in his hands.

"I've got something for you!" He tried to sound as uplifting as possible and even managed a fleeting smile.

"Great." She didn't look up. "I don't want anything."

Shinji lowered his head. He took a deep breath, then he stepped carefully towards her. "But you should -"

"What?!" She jumped to her feet. "I _should_?!" Her harsh voice tore through the silence, her finger stabbing angrily for his chest. "You don't get to tell me what I should do!" she screeched. "Nobody gets to tell me that!"

She punched the bowl out of his hands. Only by sheer luck did she not scald him, and the contents splattered on the floor, sizzling but harmlessly. She stared darkly at the steaming puddle - then she heard him grinding his teeth.

She cringed. For a moment she remained frozen, then she lifted her gaze and stared at him, full of ire.

"What?" she pressed through gritted teeth. "Want to strangle me again?"

Shinji looked at her, anger in his eyes and breathing heavily. "Asuka, please -"

"Come on, do it. You almost succeeded twice already!" She took a step towards him and pushed him away with her palm. "Or do you lack the balls to try again?! Afraid that I'll punch back for once?! Scared to be hit by a girl?!"

Shinji stumbled backwards, getting louder himself. "Asuka, stop it! I just want to help you!"

"Help me?!" She clenched her eyes shut while screaming. "I don't want your _help_!" She spat out the last word as if it was poison.

"But I can do it!" Shinji's voice rose to a scream. "I want to do it!"

" _You_ can?! _You_ want?!" She looked as if she was about to bludgeon him. "How’ll that work out?! Like in the volcano?! Or like you _helped_ me against the Evas?!"

"That's not fair! I did want to do it! But everything was full of Bakelite and soldiers and I couldn’t get into my Eva! I wish I -"

"Will you do it again?"

Her voice was suddenly very quiet, and Shinji froze.

"What you did in the hospital?" Her face was almost expressionless. "Come on, go ahead. You don't even have to lock the door this time around. Nobody will interrupt us."

Shinji went pale as a pit formed in his stomach. He had hoped that the Asuka in that particular dream had been his imagination. His gaze shot up and found her eyes, and those removed any doubts.

Petrified he stood, captivated by the sight of her. All the beauty and fragility, in her big, world weary and discerning blue eyes, her naked feet, her lithe hands and slender shoulders, forced to carry too much too early – it wouldn't let go of him, and when his gaze traveled over her thin shirt and what it covered, and below that the place he had never seen with his own eyes but still remembered, his body betrayed him. Desire tainted his compassion, seemed to mix with and amplify it, drove him to want to touch her and make her feel better somehow, to erase all the injustice she had suffered, while crushing guilt and shame paralyzed him and left him helpless.

He didn't notice when anger and disgust marred her features once more.

"What's wrong?!" she barked. "Do I have to be unconscious first?!"

"I ..." Shinji croaked. "I'm so sorry! Everything ... everything I did -"

"You absolute idiot", she hissed. "You didn't do anything!"

"But I couldn't do it!" he desperately screamed. "I wanted to do it, but I just couldn't! Everything was full of Bakelite! I wanted to help you, but the Evangelion, Mother, she was ... I heard – I heard that you ... I ... I wanted ... I couldn't! I just couldn't! I wanted to be dead!" Trembling, he stood before her, not really noticing her anymore. "I know that you hate me! I hate myself for it! And you hate me because I'm so weak! Everybody hates me for that! And there is no excuse!" His voice almost cracked when he shouted his last words. "But I'm still here! And I know I need to change myself! I won't run away! If you hate me, that's alright, I deserve it! If you want to hurt me, or kill me, that's okay as well! I can't change the past, even though I'd like nothing better than to do just that! But I have to bear the future, no matter what! Maybe I don’t deserve this chance, but I will take it! I don’t care if nobody loves me! I don’t care if everybody leaves me! I will not -"

Asuka's fist hit his chest and he lost his breath. He didn't have any time to realize what was happening before she had reached him, clutching her hands around his throat. Desperately he grabbed her wrists, tried to get her off of him, lost his footing and fell, dragging her to the ground with him. His head hit the tiling hard, and for a moment his eyes lost their focus. His legs thrashed about wildly, but her grip was iron.

His strength was leaving him. He tried to say something, hoped that she would see the pleading in his eyes, but she didn't let go.

His vision blurred; everything started to grow dark; white stars danced before his eyes. His whole field of view was filled by her contorted face and a veil of red hair. Blood built up in his head, the pressure hurting his ears, numbing his hearing, and making his eyes bulge.

His fingers refused to obey him any longer and his grip went slack. Desperately he fought against the darkness.

Suddenly the pressure in his skull disappeared. Air streamed into his lungs again, whistling in his throat. He rolled to his side, curling up on the floor. He couldn't stop coughing and struggling for breath. He still felt like he was suffocating, and his throat burned like fire.

A horrible scream pierced his ears and he winced. Two hands hit his shoulder and his arm, grabbed him and tried to throw him around. Her terrible wailing shook him to the marrow.

He curled up even tighter, trying to free his arm, holding his head protectively with both hands.

The hands clawed into his arm and Shinji tried to stop moving. His breath was shallow and rapid; he almost didn't get any fresh air into his lungs, pushing the spent breath up and down his throat. Desperately he clutched his head, pressing down as hard as he could with his arms.

He was sure he wouldn't get a second chance.

This time, he would die.

Fingernails dug deep into his skin. A fist hit his back, and then, suddenly, the hands pushed him away. Dull pounding on the floor, moving away. A shuffling sound, wood being dragged over wood. Dull pounding again. The sound of a door handle, another scream. Then one final loud screeching sound and the slam of a door being thrown shut.

Then silence.

Shinji didn't dare to move.

Slowly, he started breathing again, harder and harder, until he felt dizzy. The tension in his body loosening a little, he slumped on the floor. His grip on his head grew weaker, but still, he held his eyes tightly shut.

Intently he listened, until the tiling began to hurt his shoulder. Besides his breath, there were no sounds.

Still on his side, he opened his eyes a sliver. All he could see was a tiny spot of the floor, between his knees and elbows.

He lifted his head, pushing it out between his arms. His field of vision widened, showing him the kitchen floor and the legs of the table and the chairs, oddly turned sideways ninety degrees.

Without lifting his legs from the ground, he twisted his back until both his shoulders touched the floor. He turned his head to the right. The sliding door between kitchen and hallway stood halfway open.

Warily he pushed himself up. Again he sharpened his ears, but not the faintest sound reached them.

He sank back down on the floor, rested his arm on his forehead, and took a deep breath.

Asuka was gone.

He was alone.

The realization made his stomach cramp and forced him into a tight curl.

He was alone.

Asuka was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins ... the one millionth post-EoE story featuring two certain well known characters. Hey, if I was in any way original, I wouldn't be writing FanFiction to begin with. ;)
> 
> I'd like to thank my pre-readers (you know who you are!) - without them, I'd still be agonizing over releasing this at all. If any of your suggestions didn't make it in - don't worry. I'll rewrite this once more - or twice - or thrice. Who knows. Special thanks also to a certain person who had to endure my endless ramblings about this story, and provided much insight into many many things in return. Thank you very much! 
> 
> Comments are of course appreciated! If you think this is great - great! If you think this is pointless, clichéd drivel - that's okay as well! Just tell me what you think, if you are so inclined. 
> 
> A word on tags and warnings. I don't like to spoil things; hence the rather short list. After reading this first chapter, and knowing the source material, everybody should have a pretty good idea what kind of story this will be. Read at your own discretion.


	2. Mizar

She ran through the dark, dead valley. The worst of the destruction already lay behind her. The crowns of the trees were fuller; the rocky rubble was littering the landscape much more sparsely, but Asuka didn't notice. As her naked feet carried her over the rough asphalt, she tried to ignore the stinging in her sides and her eyes, until the former became too much.

Bracing her hands on her knees, she clenched her eyes shut.

"You've learned nothing!" Her scream vanished into the silence surrounding her, leaving only her breath and her hammering heart to fill it. She could not turn around. It was too late for that. Another door had closed behind her, like so many before. Angrily rubbing her eyes to make sure they were still dry, she got going again.

Sometime after midnight a cloud blocked the moonlight. She had still been following the road running in front of their house, but her feet refused to carry her any further, and, in this new darkness, she saw no point in arguing with them. She left the street and slumped down against a tree, not caring about the bark scratching her back and dirtying her shirt.

When the night grew colder, she hugged herself tightly and at last, not having believed it possible, she fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning woke her with orange sunlight, clammy mist that was quickly dissipating, and an aching, freezing body protesting against the uncomfortable quarters she had chosen for herself. Her right arm still hurt from the strains she had put it through, and this reminder of what she had done was enough to forbid any further resting. She pushed herself up, feeling a discomforting lack of strength in her stomach muscles. Her right hand reached for them unconsciously as she let her gaze wander over her surroundings.

Her throat tightened as the realization slowly sank in. She was truly on her own now.

She turned to her left, away from where she came from, towards the darkened side of her field of vision.

One plodding step after the other took her deeper into the mountains. The coldness of the morning soon gave way to scorching heat. It was already past noon when she found herself wandering through an older small-town near a lake shore. Little family homes with tiny front yards stood orphaned besides the road, and dead traffic lights let her pass without comment. For a time she followed the utility poles, letting her gaze cling to the power lines running along them.

Then the street took a turn while the power lines ran on and she was forced to come to a stop in front of a garden fence. Empty eyes took in what was left of the old world. Despite the scale of the cataclysm, everything looked clean and orderly, save for the red dust, which had been flushed into every crack by the rain. The diligently cared for garden was framed by natural stones. She picked up one of them – and what once had been the source of harmony and peace was now only useful to her as a tool of destruction.

The stone hit the window nearest to her with a dull crack. Only the outer pane broke, the double-glazed window proving to be much more resistant to assault than Asuka anticipated.

Another two stones, and the window shattered. She picked up a third to clear the frame of shards still lodged in there, then she realized her own stupidity. There was no need to go through all this work when she could just reach inside and turn the catch. She let go of the stone and swung the window out of the way. She had already pushed herself onto the windowsill when she became aware of her lack of shoes again.

Bending down, she reached for one of the larger shards and used it to swipe away the smaller ones, relying on her dexterity alone to not get cut. Satisfied that the floor was clean enough, she swung her legs inside and took a few careful steps.

The third proved to be one too many, because the treacherous pattern of the ubiquitous tatami mats had hidden a minuscule fragment from her scanning gaze. Effortlessly it punctured the sole of her right foot and buried itself inside, as the jolt of pain made her jump away and lose her balance.

She stayed down, held her foot and clenched her teeth. When the pain had dulled a little, she reached for the small fragment and pulled it out. The wound was bleeding quite heavily for its size. Good. All impurities would get washed away. And even if they weren't – she couldn't force herself to care as she came to her feet and limped to the bedroom.

There she felt like she was being watched, as if the owners of the house would return any moment now. She opened the drawers, immediately finding the one containing socks. She sat down on the bed and put on a pair. Then she tried standing up, taking a few involuntarily careful steps. Gritting her teeth, she stomped down hard a few times to conquer her pain.

She went to the kitchen. Opening the fridge doused her in the horrible smell of rotten vegetables and decaying meat, but she also found a half-emptied bottle of cola on the door. Eagerly she unscrewed the lid and gulped down the lukewarm and stale brew.

Never quite able to shake off the feeling of being watched, she searched the rest of the house. She managed to find bottled water and food, mostly potato chips and an assortment of sweets, and a backpack to carry it with. After shouldering the quite heavy load, she went to the hallway.

Neatly lined up pairs of shoes gave insight into the family living here. Father, mother and daughter. Three empty spots revealed that they must have been out when Third Impact happened. The girl appeared to be Asuka's age, as her light summer shoes fit her well enough.

The front door could be unlocked from the inside, and Asuka left it wide open as she went outside. One direction seemed as good as any other, so she just picked one at random.

Soon she found herself at the lake shore. The cold, clear water and a gentle breeze made the air in its vicinity much more pleasant. She sat down on the anthracite sand and ate without any appetite. Everything seemed tasteless, so she gave up on trying to force it down.

As evening came, the surface began to glow red like the sea, reflecting the crimson sky. The first stars appeared, and right at that time, she noticed a small, blinking light at the opposite shore. It's rhythm was far too regular to be natural; furrowing her brow, she hugged her knees to her chest and waited. When the light was still active later in the night, she eventually grabbed her things and went towards it.

Two hours later, she crept through decrepit bushes towards the yellow light reflecting off the mirror-like surface of the lake. It shone out of the open double doors at the back end of a large military truck – a mobile command center, or maybe a radio station. She wriggled out of the straps of her backpack, then she moved closer towards the edge of the undergrowth.

She sharpened her ears. For several minutes, nothing but her own heartbeat and the rustling of the leaves droned in them. Steeling her resolve, she stepped out into the open and went to the truck.

She leaned into the door and risked a peek inside. The first things she saw were the tips of two all too familiar military boots, and she recoiled. Again she listened until the silence hurt her ears. Then she took another look.

Her expression turned into a deep frown. The boots still stood where their owner last sat. His trousers were hanging from the bench and disappeared in the shafts, the rest of his uniform forming a pile on the padding. A dark stain was barely visible in the weak, pulsing light, and his clothes were stiff. They smelled of LCL. Four similar piles marked the positions of his fellows.

Asuka curled her nose in disgust, then she climbed inside and went towards the light. It came from a small, sturdy metal box, linked up to the communications equipment. Most likely some kind of emergency transmitter. There was only one button on the front of the case. As soon as she pushed it, the light died. No matter what she tried, it didn't turn back on.

As she felt her way around the dark vehicle, her hand touched a cold metal object. She considered for a moment, then she took it with her.

Out in the moonlight, she studied the pistol. On the slide was written "N° 2 MK. I*" and below that "Browning FN. 9MM". It was heavy. She could barely hold it steady when she raised it with an outstretched arm.

She took aim over the lake. The trigger offered her finger substantial resistance and her right arm still hurt, so she changed hands. Again she took aim, then she pulled the trigger.

Besides the clicking noise of the striker, nothing happened. Furrowing her brow, she found a button on the left side of the pistol and pushed it. The magazine slid out of the handle and she caught it. A shiny, copper cartridge shimmered in the moonlight. She slotted the magazine back into the weapon, searching for the safety. A strap of metal wasn't it, but eventually she found it on the left side of the pistol, right below the slide. She turned it off, taking aim once more.

The trigger clicked – and the silence seemed to explode. The furious recoil made her jerk backwards, as the weapon slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground with a dull thud. A constant sine wave sang in her skull.

She snatched up the weapon, feeling her ears turn hot. For years she had shot guns in simulations and inside her Eva – she had become so used to it that she had forgotten what it felt like to shoot one unprotected, unaided by the Eva's enormous power.

Driven by sudden anger, she hurled the gun into the lake, where it disappeared into the depths with a muffled splash. What use was it anyway? There was nothing left she needed to defend herself from. Nobody around to shoot. Except ...

Overcome with regret, she headed back to the truck and dug through the uniforms. Four more guns turned up, and one working flashlight. She held it between her teeth and placed the guns on the console opposite the bench. She carried the clothes outside, then she laid down on the bench, keeping the weapons in her vision.

When she finally fell asleep, Arael was already waiting for her.

* * *

She awoke around noon, feeling incredibly hungry and thirsty and not the least bit refreshed. She coughed and rolled out of her makeshift bed, trying to shake off her dizziness with an alarming lack of success. Holding her stomach, she trotted back to the thicket where she had left her backpack the night before. A handful of chips and some deep pulls from one of the water bottles were all she could stomach.

She lifted up her backpack and took a few steps. Her hurt foot protested the added weight by sending searing pain up her leg. Pointless to go on. She let go of her bag and stumbled back to the truck.

Rain began to fall shortly after she lay down. At first, only a few droplets fell, but soon they came down so fast that their drumming on the roof of the vehicle merged together into static.

After the first flash and crack of lightning, she picked herself up, crept to the doors and drew them shut. It cost her far too much effort to return to the bench. The rain sucked the warmth of the day away; coldness crept in through the sheet metal of the cabin.

She huddled up more tightly. Clasping her stomach, she only wished for dreamless sleep to carry her away.

* * *

Instead, she awoke after a night of feverish dreams of helplessness and decay. Her face felt warm, her eyelids a little swollen. No doubt a consequence of the cold moisture clinging to the air. She avoided looking at the top of the console as she came to her feet, afraid of the temptation she felt. Her throat closed up anyway, and she hurried to open the doors and leave the suffocating interior.

The morning had already blossomed into a refreshing forenoon. Gentle gusts of wind played with the lake, forming clusters of tiny crests and troughs. The beauty was entirely lost on Asuka as she cowered on the shore. She needed all her focus to force down the bile that haunting memories and disturbing premonitions kept pushing back up again.

Eventually, she realized that the feeling wouldn't leave her anytime soon. She still felt weak when she went to her soggy backpack. She still had no appetite, but ate regardless.

Then she got on her way.

She wandered deeper into the mountains. Only a few buildings lined the road, mostly homes, a small convenience store and a hairdresser's, but she simply dragged herself onward. The trees began to look healthier. Some were still completely green. She had two liters of water left in her backpack, but they felt like twenty.

She spent the whole day walking in the heat, finally arriving in a small village. The sun was about to go down when she found a hot spring.

The door to the bathhouse wasn't locked. The lobby was dark, and LCL-stained clothes formed a line in front of the counter. She ignored the morbid display and headed straight for the changing room, which directly led to the pool. She was greeted by inviting steam rising from the water. She let her backpack glide from her shoulders, took off her shoes and socks, and went in. There was a bench below the water, and she was just tall enough to keep her head above the surface as she slumped down. Her aching feet and lower back welcomed the cozy warmth and the feeling of weightlessness.

Soon after, she jolted out of a nightmare of magma and nooses, gasped for air – and immediately found her mouth filled with another hot liquid. Even fully awake now, she struggled to find her bearings, thrashing in the water until she broke through the surface.

Coughing, heaving and cursing, she climbed out of the bath. She must have tossed in her sleep, sliding off her seat in the process, almost drowning like a helpless infant. Her throat was sore by the time she had her breathing under control again, and it had taken much of her remaining strength.

She wrung out her hair and searched the moonlit room. A few towels hung on a rack on the wall, and she took them with her as she trudged back to the changing room, leaving a trail of puddles on the floor.

She considered taking off her clothes, but the wet fabric clung to her skin too strongly, and she gave up on that effort. Instead she dried herself off a little, then she laid down on one of the wooden benches opposite the lockers. She wrapped herself in a few more towels to stave off the cold, curling up into herself as best as her makeshift bed would allow.

She tried to keep away the memories of days spent rotting away in a bathtub. She couldn't. All she could do was hide her face in shame.

* * *

The night offered no respite. Short periods of sleep were followed by long, torturous hours of lying awake on the hard wooden planks, until she couldn't take it anymore. Aimlessly she wandered the building, not even noticing the sun coming up.

She _did_ try to leave. Ate and drank in preparation, even searched for soap or shampoo to fight her own stench. But it was futile. Every time she went to the front door, a perverse urge prevented her from stepping out into sunlight and fresher air that would surely lay bare her secrets.

Her jaw clenched as her hand went to her stomach.

She had to know.

There was a wall-high mirror in the changing room. Her clothes still felt a little damp when she began to take them off, but the ubiquitous heat of the eternal Japanese summer had kept her warm over night. Now, goosebumps formed on her skin as she exposed more and more of it, carefully keeping her gaze from drifting in the direction of the mirror.

Her skin felt numb when she finally stepped out of her panties. Willing herself to look up, she took in her own image in the mirror for the first time.

A scrawny teenage girl with haunted eyes and tousled hair stared back at her. Small breasts and budding pubic hair made it clear that she was still half a child. Her bloodshot eye and the bandages covering half of her body left no doubt that she wasn't.

She moved a little closer to the mirror and pushed back her fringe, ignoring her trembling fingers as best as she could. Her forehead was marred by a circular, thumbnail-sized scar with a low, ruddy ridge, right above her left eye. The wound seemed to have healed completely, but only recently so. The skin was still thin, but there were no signs of infection.

Closing her healthy eye confirmed that the red dot she could see with her other had grown larger. Part of her wished it hadn't, as it conjured up hopes that could and would be crushed, one way or another.

The bandage covering her arm was next. The tape holding it in place was beginning to lose adhesion, so the choice had been taken from her anyway, like so many others. Taking a deep breath, she freed the end running across her shoulder and began to unwind it.

As soon as skin started showing, she froze. A thin red line ran up her arm, right to the joint, forming a small and somewhat bumpy ridge on her flesh. She stared at it in disbelief, then she grit her teeth. Foregoing further caution, she ripped the rest of the bandage off, exposing the mark of the spear coiling around her arm. Only when she stretched out her arm as if to reach for something above her did the line become dead straight.

The spear came hurling at her again. As her arm erupted in pain at the memory, she held it close to her chest and clutched her wrist, trying desperately to push the visions back down. She swallowed hard, fighting against the familiar waves of hot and cold running over her face and the needle pricks in her throat, harbingers of the need to throw up.

Somehow she succeeded. Shivering slightly, cold sweat on her brow, she felt the urge die down. She hadn't noticed it before, but now that she was able to touch it, the skin on her hand and arm felt numb around the scar. Maybe it had simply been covered by the tight bandage for too long. Maybe she would never be able to feel her arm clearly again.

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths in an effort to calm herself. She could have stopped now, but …

She grit her teeth. There was no point in delaying things. She had made it this far. She should do the rest as well. 

Slowly she began. Layer by layer, the bandages around her stomach fell to the floor, piling up around her feet, until she was entirely naked. Her fingers felt glimpses of what was to come, but she still did not dare to open her eyes. Right now, it wasn't real. She could still play make believe as long as she didn't look, but she felt her self control crumbling fast.

She was afraid. She tried to deny it, but there was no way she could: she was utterly terrified of opening her eyes. All she wished for was that this was all a dream; that she would wake up in her cozy bed back home in Germany, to the smell of a real breakfast; for Mama to come to her one more time and hold her, reassure her that everything would be okay; for Kaji to smile his melancholic smile at her.

The hollow realization that none of that would ever happen again grew in her stomach and pushed outwards, driving out the feeling from her limbs and replacing it with emptiness below her neck. The sound of her breathing seemed to come from far away. Her face felt like it was made of plastic. For a split second, she wished for her eyes to open already, just to remove her from this torturous limbo – and to her horror, they did. She immediately regretted her decision, tried to take it back, willed her lids to stay closed, but it was too late. Ignoring all her further commands, they opened all the way and showed her the image in the mirror.

They ran from the edge of her ribcage to her pubic mound. Jagged, angry and red, dotted by spots of purple and blue. In between, her skin was slightly discolored and withered, as if somebody had torn it off in rough patches, only to crudely graft it back on later. Offshoots ran halfway around her sides, joined by the marks of teeth and claws. Seven pairs of circular scars dotted her torn up front. One just below her sternum. Five scattered around where her navel was. Two to the left, three to the right. One below the level of her hip bones, in the crease where her leg joined her torso. Some of the pairs were connected: the twin tipped spears had buried themselves to their shafts.

She couldn't close her eyes. She couldn't even blink. It didn't feel real.

She twisted her back towards the mirror to get a look. She miscounted thrice before she arrived at fourteen exit wounds. Her fingers went to the back of her skull, finding two bald spots, well hidden beneath her mane.

Her eyes still mercilessly glued to her reflection, she turned back around. When she breathed, the scars stretched – any moment now, this ragged sack of meat would rip at the seams, spilling her guts all over the floor.

The image in the mirror became blurry, then it began to tilt. She staggered to her left, catching herself at the last moment. She blinked and shook her head. Her eyes were drawn towards her belly.

Her legs began to shiver, then to shake, and then they gave in completely. She fell to her knees. Grinding her teeth, she reached for the bandages and tried to rip them apart. But she wasn't strong enough anymore – the anger she relied upon so much wasn't enough to overcome the blood rushing to her head and the searing pressure building behind her eyes.

Amidst her bandages, what was left of the girl curled up, desperately clinging to herself. Tears began to flow, sobs filled the air – not the few she shed after leaving the elevator, or the suppressed whimpers of her time at Hikari's place – and there was not a single thing this girl that had promised to never cry again could do about it.

She would never grow up to be pretty. She would never go to college again. She would never be loved. She would never become what she should have been.

She wanted to take it all back. She wanted to see her Mama. She wanted to apologize to Papa. She wanted somebody to hold her and make it all go away.

She wanted to live with all her heart – but she knew full well that she could not.


	3. Alcor

Shinji paced in the kitchen. She tried to kill him – it was good that she was gone. She hated him. They would be better off apart. She wanted nothing to do with him anyway. He should be glad that he was still alive. He should be glad to be alone, to be rid of -

"Dammit!" Down the hallway, out the door – forgot his shoes. Fingers tangled with laces – come on, tie that knot! There! Now down the stairs, out the front door. Left or right? Crater? Mountains? He – just … Mountains!

The road flew by under his feet. Behind the corner, surely! Behind the next tree! He couldn't slow down, not now! There! "Asuka!" No, just a shadow.

You chose wrong.

Keep going, keep breathing – maybe behind the next bend in the road, behind the next tree –

You chose wrong.

Just one more bend, one more chance –

You chose wrong.

A scream chafed his throat as he whirled around.

* * *

He felt like he was seconds away from coughing up his lungs as he stumbled towards the craters edge. Collapsing to hands and knees, he let his head hang – to his immediate regret, as the inrush of blood made him want to throw up. Swallowing after every gulp of air, he leaned back and braced his hands on the gritty asphalt. After a minute spent in shaky limbo, his vision began to clear.

A steep, even slope had been chiseled out of the bedrock, eating far into the mountains. Roads simply ended; rivers had been cut in half, flowing directly into the red sea, a couple hundred meters below. A rocky wasteland stretched away from the crater's edge. Nothing in the vicinity had survived intact. All of Hakone was gone. Mount Fuji, no longer hidden behind the mountains, was faintly visible in the distance.

There was nothing here. Least of all any trace of Asuka.

Still out of breath, he dragged himself back to the junction at the entrance of the valley. Instead of going home right away, he went towards the ruined city, reaching the point where the tsunami had covered the road in mud. Many trails of footprints were clearly visible in the dirt, leading both directions, but there was only one set of Asuka's slimmer prints.

Walking up and down the boundary of the mud, he searched for a new trail on both sides of the road, but his heart wasn't in it. He was only confirming what he already knew: he would not be able to find her tonight.

He had just stepped onto the road again when the moon disappeared behind a cloud, leaving him to find his way home in almost complete darkness.

* * *

Shinji wiped the sweat from his brow, replacing it with soapy water. He had been working since early morning: taking out the trash, doing the dishes, scrubbing the floor. The red dust kept creeping back inside.

It was the fourth day since Asuka vanished. He had spent the last three looking for her, despite understanding the futility: if she had walked steadily away from him, there was no chance of him ever catching up now. Leaving the house for long was out of the question, too: if, by some miracle, she decided to come back, she might leave before he got back. At least he remembered to wedge a piece of rubble in the hinge of the front door. The hydraulics would pull it closed otherwise, and Asuka had no key.

The last tile of the kitchen floor was clean. Convinced that he had done all he could, he emptied his bucket into the toilet, wondering how long it would take for the sewers to get clogged.

For what must have been the millionth time, he asked himself what he could have done differently. At this point, he had examined every word, every action taken, every gesture of their last exchange, and he could no longer tell the significance of things. The harder he tried to find meaning, the less certain he became.

The bucket clattered into the corner. He might as well have done what she asked of him. Couldn't have made things any worse.

Letting his shoulders sag, he righted the bucket and returned to the kitchen. He ran his finger over the counter. An almost invisible layer of dust had already accumulated again. With a sigh, he went to the living room.

Asuka's plugsuit still lay on the floor, along with the clothes she had thrown around. Those he gathered first, beating the dust out of them before stowing them away in her part of the wardrobe. Then he returned to her suit.

He wasn't sure he should touch it. It was … her. A second skin. But he couldn't just leave it there, crumpled up like an old rag.

Mumbling an apology, he reached for it. As soon as he moved it, the smell of a suit that had been worn too long filled his nostrils. Heat rose to his cheeks. He was intruding far too deeply into something very personal. Suit in hand, face still burning, he grabbed a sponge and liquid cleaner in the kitchen and went to the creek.

Washing the outside was bearable, but then he had to move on to the inside. Between the parts that stretched, there were patches of nonabrasive lining, to prevent direct contact with the wearer's skin.

Clenching his jaw he scrubbed down the inside extra hard, first of her sweat, then once more of his dirty fingerprints. She had been right about him all along. He didn't even know what he was doing anymore. It was insanity to think that she would return just to get her suit.

* * *

After hanging her suit out to dry, he spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the living room. Her tantrum had broken a porcelain bird on the shelf opposite the couch. A few picture frames stood beside it, showing the family that had lived here. The man seemed friendly enough, as did his wife. The daughter looked happy in all the images. She must have been his age, maybe a little older – he found it hard to tell because of her foreign features.

He realized with a pang of guilt that he had already forgotten the name of the man. There was a small work desk on the far side of the living room he hadn't dared to touch yet. Ignoring the dead computer, he opened the drawers, finding writing utensils, a calendar and a few letters, addressed to one Nathaniel Pollard. He tried to memorize the name as he sifted through the envelopes, until one of them made him wince. It bore the unmistakable red figleaf seal of NERV.

Curiosity got the better of him. The last letter from NERV he held in his hands had been from his father. This one turned out to be a rather impersonal and generic Christmas card, sent by the head of the Department of Biological Research. Even the signature was printed, not handwritten. Slightly disappointed, Shinji searched through the rest of the letters, finding nothing but advertisement and bills.

Placing the mail back in the drawer, he pushed it shut. Maybe the family hadn't been so happy after all – if it even was a family. There was only one bed in the apartment. Maybe the man had no other choice – maybe he preferred his work over his family, like all adults seemed to. Like his father – and Asuka's, too. Now he might never know for sure.

He returned to his original task, taking the pictures and carrying them to the bedroom, where another frame stood on the nightstand. He stowed them all away in the lowest level of the wardrobe, mumbling an apology for intruding into their home. The sun was already setting as he folded Asuka's suit and placed it on top of her clothes, collapsing onto the bed right after, foregoing brushing his teeth or washing himself. He could change the sheets tomorrow.

* * *

The first thing he did in the morning was take Asuka's suit and drop it in the living room, trying to arrange it the way he had found it. It had been a terrible idea to touch it. Hopefully she wouldn't notice his misdeed.

He got to work after a hasty breakfast. The apartments on the ground floor were reachable by climbing onto their balconies, and the broken windows allowed easy if somewhat dangerous access. The first flat offered almost nothing useful. A few cans of soda, a few packets of rice, cleaning supplies he already had enough of, and another set of pictures to fuel his guilt.

The second was more rewarding. The people living here had stored lots of everything, including non-perishable food. The old couple living next door to his teacher's place had been similar. Like all adults, they had seen Second Impact and the Year of Hell. He sometimes visited them when his teacher was still at work, and they always offered him far too much to eat, insisting that he finished it all. "Be glad that you don't have to go hungry!", they always said. Shinji didn't really understand at that time. Hunger wasn't something he had ever felt. He could not imagine the empty stores his neighbors told him about, or that people used their bare hands to dig for grains of rice left in the ground after the harvest, or that some gave away half their livelihood for a piece of meat, or how overjoyed everybody was when the UN suddenly intervened and supplied the country with everything it needed. All he cared for back then was that his stomach hurt when he was forced to eat too much.

The third apartment proved to be the most valuable. It seemed to belong to a young couple. He found a gas cooker and some spare cartridges right away, in addition to two LED lights with inbuilt batteries and solar panels. There was a tent and sleeping bags, too, but he left them as he went back up to his apartment.

* * *

There was rice for dinner again. At least cooking had become much easier now. He was halfway through his portion as a gust of wind bulged the drapes. Dust whirled in the air. Slowly it trickled down, giving the white grains a faint reddish hue.

He shoved his plate away, braced his elbows on the table and hid his face, somehow managing to keep his food down. He was stealing from people he had killed. He didn't want to go back out and do it again. If only Misato was here. She would have no problem taking what she needed; she always did what was necessary – until he got her shot because he was too cowardly to even walk on his own. And now he was sitting in somebody else's kitchen on the verge of tears instead of doing what had to be done.

* * *

He went to the last apartment in the afternoon and rummaged through the drawers in the bathroom. Asuka would need a hairbrush, shampoo, and … other things. In the end, he simply took everything, trying not to think about its usage.

The same problem presented itself when he searched for clothes, and the solution was equally obvious. It took him three trips to carry everything up to the apartment. Most of it wouldn't fit Asuka, but then again, she had sometimes worn Misato's oversized shirts. He didn't really care about the stuff he took for himself.

He stowed everything away. Rechecked all of his supplies. Lots of bottled water and soda in the fridge – purely out of habit, as there was of course no electricity. Rice, cans of meat and produce, sweets, snacks and glasses of pickles in the cupboards. The two LED lamps out on the balcony to recharge. Gas cooker sitting on the kitchen counter, a box of tea beside it.

The day was almost at a close. He took the calendar he found and hovered his pencil over it. After a moment's hesitation, he crossed out the first five days of January. He knew the date was wrong, but he could at least count the days since Asuka vanished.

And then, from one moment to the next, there was simply nothing left to do. Silence encroached on him, bleeding into his ears as a low, thrumming sound. The sound began to pulse. His heartbeat.

Silence was something new. There had never been silence in his life. Something was always making noise: people, cars, the heater, the TV or radio, his school laptop, the air-conditioning, even the electric lights. Birds, cicadas, his S-DAT – all gone. There had always been people around him, too. He shied away from them, seeking solitude and tranquility whenever he could, but still, there was at least the _option_ to see another face, hear another voice.

Now, there was simply nothing. His decision to return suddenly seemed like a farce – what was the point of wishing for real human contact when there weren't any around? Asuka had taken more than a week to return – there was no way to tell how much time the others would need. If they chose to return at all.

He staggered onto the balcony and sat down against the wall. He thought the same thing before she returned, and she proved him wrong. Others would come back. They just had to. All he had to do was wait.

* * *

He woke with bleary eyes and a foul, bitter taste in his mouth, muscles still sore from the day before. He hadn't dreamt during his short sleep, after keeping watch on the balcony until late at night. He sat down at the kitchen table, trying to find a comfortable position for his aching back.

Despite his sleep deprived state, his mind was already hard at work assaulting him with doubts and worries, spoiling his appetite. Her red suit sitting at the edge of his vision didn't help either.

'I know that you hate me' - those were his words, but, despite having seen her thoughts, he hadn't really grasped what they _meant._ How genuine her hatred, and how inadequate the description was. Now, with the additional reminder of her furious visage from when she tried to strangle him, he finally saw the truth. He could feel it eating away at his guts. She had been right. He really was dense, if it took this much to make him understand.

He dragged himself to the counter to make some tea, spending the next half hour searching for his lighter he had misplaced somewhere. It took some time for the water to boil. Then a few minutes for the tea to be ready.

He sat down. Drank some tea. Stood up again. Sat back down. Stood up. Went to her plugsuit. Fled back to the kitchen. Sat down again. Failed to get back up.

He released a breath he didn't know he was holding and gave himself a shake. Brushing his teeth, that seemed like something he could do. He opened the door to the dimly lit bathroom. His new LED-lights would help. Yes. He'd get them once he got some water from the creek.

He counted his steps as he went down the stairs. Three flights with fourteen steps each, divided in the middle. Seven steps facing towards the rear of the building, then a platform, then seven steps facing the opposite direction. Right hand on the banister, three steps to complete the turn, but those didn't count. Seven steps down, turn, seven more steps. And the same in reverse on the way up. Eighty-four steps in total.

The artificial light gave his face a sickly glow as he brushed his teeth for three minutes. He rinsed his mouth two times and cleaned the stains the toothpaste left in the sink with some more water from his bucket.

His tea wasn't even cold by the time he sat down in the kitchen again. It tasted horrible in combination with the mint left in his mouth.

He watched the shadows in the room creep further to the left. An agonizingly slow task that came to an abrupt end when the sun hit the polished metal part of the gas cooker and left a bright spot of overexcited nerves on his retina. He closed his eyes and watched the spot dance in the darkness. It left behind faint trails while changing color from white to red to purple. He took a deep breath, being slow on the exhale. It wasn't even noon.

At least six more hours of this. Then the fight to fall asleep. And then the same the next day. His mind began to send out feelers into the void surrounding him, searching for something in the realm of possibilities: footsteps, a door opening, a shout from another room, maybe a car going by. None of the tendrils gave him the elation of encountering any form of resistance. They all had to retreat back into himself, accumulating into a formless clump in his head.

It felt just like the twelfth. The LCL purification system was already failing. Oxygen was running low. Snowflakes drifted through the plug interior. Nothingness on the outside. Not even gravity pulling him down. Soon, mother would …

A spasm shook his body and he suddenly felt like he was falling, his bottom seemingly hitting the chair just as his eyes shot open. He was wide awake again. Weight had returned to his limbs.

An echo of his mother's touch faded from his cheek.

The shadows in the room had moved slightly to the left.

Shinji hung his head. It wasn't even noon.

* * *

There was a row of dumpsters behind the house. He opened one already – but couldn't bring himself to throw her suit away. It still had to go. Seeing it all the time was too much.

He smashed the dumpster shut and ran back upstairs.

Wrapping the suit in a plastic bag so it wouldn't get dirty, he hid it away under the sink. He didn't have to see it, and she could take it back. What a cowardly non-solution. He was simply too weak to make a decision that included any sense of finality.

* * *

His teacher's name was Kudo Takanori. But he very seldom addressed him by anything other than his title _._ He could recall maybe five instances as he stood in front of the grave he had erected to honor his caretaker.

Mr. Kudo wasn't a bad person. He had always been nice, allowing him to simply exist. He didn't even get very angry when his grades weren't as good as they could have been. He never praised him much, either. At least not without reminding him that he could do much better if he put in a bit more effort, always giving his small victories the sour aftertaste of inadequacy.

The first and last time Shinji saw him had been at the same train station: once when his father sent him away, then when he called him back to his side. Their goodbye had been friendly but short. Shinji hadn't heard a word from his teacher since.

Yesterday, he had marked the calendar with the seventh cross. Or maybe the eighth. The days began blurring together again, just like when he was alone for the first time, only that he now knew what lay ahead. This knowledge did its best to paralyze his thoughts. Somebody had to come back soon, or else …

His gaze drifted over the graves, trying to avoid a certain one by focusing on the names written on the others. Lieutenant Aoba, maybe. He was … strong like Mr. Kaji, right? Or Lieutenant Hyuga? He was a very nice person, Misato had been friends with him. Lieutenant Ibuki had been so nice to him as well, she had even offered him to call her Maya once! Doctor Akagi had been betrayed by his father, and did try to stop his plans – surely she would want to return! Kensuke would never stay inside either, much less Toji – they were his friends, they were much smarter and livelier than him, they had things they liked to do and they had fun all the time and -

He realized that he knew almost nothing about any of those people. He hadn't lived with them, he had existed alongside them. Everybody had been forming bonds and connections, becoming part of the greater whole, while he moved through life in a bubble of his own. None of them had any obligation to care about him in the slightest, because he had never shown true interest in them himself.

But Misato – she cared. She said he should return to her. He was here now, he _had_ returned – but where was she? Why hadn't she been waiting for him on the other side, like she promised? Her promise, it – it scared him, but … if that was what it took then … then maybe … He did not want to reject and hurt her, but surely there was a way, surely they could talk and she would understand. If only she returned and gave him another chance ...

But she wouldn't. This sudden punch of clarity almost knocked him off balance. It had all been a ruse. She didn't believe him to be capable of doing anything – she had said goodbye. That was why she looked so at peace when the elevator door hissed shut. She would not return to him. She had set him free and left him. No, abandoned him.

Just like -

In one swift move, he stepped forward, reached for her grave marker and pushed it away with both hands. It leaned in the damp earth for a moment, then it fell. It hit the mud with a wet thud, rolled over and buried the cross beneath it. A few clots of earth had hit the slough next to the graves. Ripples radiated out in perfect circles, mingled into chaotic little patterns that swiftly unraveled and left the red water as calm as it had been.

And then there was silence, except for Shinji's labored breathing. He lifted his gaze from the fallen pole. The graves surrounding him seemed to grow skywards, silently condemning his actions. He took a step backwards, his head jerking from left to right. All their eyes were upon him now, their voices whispering their disapproval in his head.

Shinji whirled around and ran. His hands pressed on his ears, he never once looked back.

* * *

The can exploded, adding green to the splotchy pattern on the pavement. Shinji reached for another and held it out over the edge. Then he let go. He watched it fall, fall, fall, getting smaller and smaller, until it burst into red goo. Tomatoes, maybe. Didn't matter.

He couldn't help but giggle. That was the point, wasn't it? Nothing mattered in the grand scheme of things. He could choose A or B, make the right choice or the wrong one, but in the end, things just happened. There was nothing he could do to change that.

He reached down again, but there were no more cans. He could get more, but the joy had left. He pulled his legs out from in between the railing and came to his feet. Pushing aside the sheets covering the doorway puffed up a very faint cloud of red. The air was much clearer now, but the dust was still there. It always found a way to come back inside, too.

He pushed off his shoes on the way to the bedroom. He fell onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling. Ten crosses marked the calendar. There was iron on his tongue. He curled up on his side as the dust crept into his eyes.

He hadn't changed the sheets ...


	4. Mira

The mattress felt damp under his cheek, but he refused to get up. There was a tiny crack running up the wall. A little river, dividing two countries, maybe. Or the Amazon, running across endless jungle. Or maybe just a crack in the wall.

"You can fly away!" sang the woman from the S-DAT. The music drifted in and out, but her voice always came through at full volume. Then the player clicked and she sang the same line again – and again, and again.

His eyes fell shut as he sighed. Better than hearing that heart-wrenching scream, or the groaning of metal crushed in a giant's white fists. Better than having to hear his mother promising him paradise. Better than being reminded by Rei that he misunderstood from the very beginning.

Something in the back of his mind was nagging him; he couldn't exactly remember when he stood up, either. Keeping his eyes on his toes, he went to the front door and opened it. He glanced left and right down the quiet hallway. The neighbors wouldn't show themselves, as always. Somebody left a newspaper for him. He picked it up, but he couldn't bring it into focus, as it always drifted off to the left.

He shuffled back to the kitchen. As he buttoned up his shirt, he wondered why his socks were smeared with red.

"Hey, Shinji!"

"Oh, hey Toji!" He fumbled with the last button: the hole was slightly too small, and it didn't want to go in. "What are you doing here?"

"Just checking on you. Wanted to see how far you were along."

"Ah, sorry! I promised, didn't I?" His heart sank. He knew he had forgotten something. The calendar on the table offered an escape from Toji's slightly disappointed expression, and he crossed out the twelfth. "I'll have it ready soon."

"Don't worry, man."

He saw Toji leaning back in his chair from the corner of his eye and filled the kettle at the sink. "Uhm … sugar?"

"Sure! Got a little time. I'm visiting Sakura today."

"How is she?"

"Better – doctor says they can sew her legs back on soon."

"That's good."

"Yeah, can't wait to go swimming with her. You know, it will be a little difficult, because of all the holes. Water always gets in, but hey, nothing we can't manage."

"Sorry. I … I didn't want to …" Shinji trailed off, his voice losing all volume. "I ..." He tried to make it louder again, but it only worked for the first word. Still trying to figure out how that was possible, he placed a cup of tea on the table.

"Thanks Shinji!" Toji reached for it with the festering stump of his right arm. He chuckled. "Oh well ... guess that doesn't work."

Shinji shook his head. "Sorry."

"Nah, don't worry about it."

The nurses came in through the double door. One on each side, they lifted Toji into his wheelchair, draping a blanket over his legs; the long one and the missing, too.

"You, uhm, sorry, can – can you tell me-"

"See you around, Shinji!"

"Wait, I …"

Somebody held the doors open as the women pushed Toji past. "It's time for your appointment", one of them said.

Toji answered, but Shinji couldn't make out the words. He trailed behind the group, but their backs blocked his view of Toji, who was chatting away with the hospital personnel. Then they rounded a corner and doors closed in front of Shinji.

He blinked. There was a crack on the wall. A sigh escaped his lips, and he slumped down. His back hurt; his whole body felt worn. Right then, he heard faint footsteps from the hallway. They slowly got closer and seemed to stop in front of the bedroom door. He thought he could hear clothes rustling, too.

Shinji pressed his hands on his ears and his eyelids together. Holding his breath, he increased the pressure until he heard his blood rushing through his skull, then he exhaled sharply and listened again.

The noises were gone.

* * *

He managed to stay in bed for what could have been a few more hours, then he had to get up. His mouth seemed to be made of felt, and despite not having drunk anything since yesterday, he needed to relieve himself. So much for his plan. Hunger came and went, but his thirst was much more insistent. Damn heat. Damn need to sweat.

As he entered the bathroom, he noticed that the front door was still open. Pouring a little water into the toilet, after he finished, kicked his thirst into overdrive, so he hurried to the fridge and grabbed a random soda, greedily emptying it in one go. Irritation flashed on his face as he felt the liquid rush into his limbs, and he slammed the empty can on the counter.

Bracing one hand on the table, he turned the calendar the right way up. The word 'Tomorrow!' was scribbled above the twelfth of January. For a few minutes, he tried to figure out if tomorrow meant today; his thoughts drifted to his nightmares instead. Kaworu in his fist. Rubble and twisted limbs in a caved-in bunker, below 02's mangled head. Fangs in the ocean. Blue sky, visible through a broken roof. The train. The white vultures circling above and descending upon him. Blood on his lips. The hospital. Eventually, his stomach rumbled. The memory came back, and he crossed out the day, writing 'Tomorrow!' above the thirteenth.

So tiring. But the bed was too clammy, and the sun was still up. The couch would do. He shuffled towards the living room, placing his hand on the door frame as he reached it and -

Asuka was looking straight at him. Sitting on her knees in front of the low-slung table.

For a second he was stunned – then he let his shoulders sag with a groan. He was so sick of it all. He saw the corners of her eyes twitch; her mouth opened a little. For a moment she held still, her expression darkening to match his. Then she slowly turned her head, keeping her eyes on him until the last moment, before she lowered her gaze.

Shinji covered his ears, shut his eyes and took a few agitated breaths. Of course he would imagine her next, and she would ignore him. No better way to mock him. God, he wanted to rush to her, squeeze her throat and make her disappear again. Why couldn't she just leave him alone? He already made peace with his fate, so -

A gust of wind bulged the drapes and moved the stagnant air in the room, carrying with it something decidedly human. Shinji froze again. Carefully he inhaled through his nose. The smell lingered in his nostrils.

Icy water ran over his scalp. His fingers cramped as he curled them into fists. He needed all his willpower to force his eyes open again.

Asuka was still there, right in front of him, watching him out of the corner of her eye. Her face had been burned by the sun, her lips were dry and cracked. She wasn't wearing socks or shoes. Her clothes were dirty, her hair a mess. Only her interface headset was still pristine. Her bandages were missing: instead, a thin scar wound itself around her arm. The white of her left eye was still red, now dotted by spots of yellow.

Shinji turned on his heels and bolted to the kitchen sink. Leaning onto the sideboard, he tried to steady himself, getting dizzy from breathing too fast. He looked over his shoulder, but she was hidden behind the wall. Holding his breath, he tiptoed to the doorway and peeked inside. She hadn't moved at all – for a moment he questioned again how real she was, but then he saw her chest moving, ever so slightly.

He pulled his head back and sighed in relief. His face turned into a grimace almost immediately. He couldn't just go in and say – what, exactly? Hello?

He gave himself a shake and rushed to the cupboards, picking out a few packets of sweets and snacks; grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge, he went back to the doorway.

She wasn't looking at him yet; carefully he inched closer, always ready to make a run for it. He had almost reached the table when she finally looked up, freezing him in place. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments as he failed to evade in time.

Plastic crackled as he hugged the food more closely, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His palms grew sweaty. He took another shaky step towards her, opened his mouth – then he ditched his offerings on the table and beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen, to the sound of one of the bottles tipping over.

He grabbed the edge of the counter and sharpened his ears. Seconds turned to minutes. He wiped his hands on his trousers and began to pace. Minutes became an eternity. He clenched his fist. Forcing himself to turn around, he hugged the door frame and risked another glance.

Asuka hadn't touched anything. Her expression was blank.

Unpleasant memories encroached upon him. The afternoon sun was burning on his back. The room seemed to pulse and blur, the light dimming to the beat of his heart. He took a few shaky steps towards her, began to reach out – but never finished the movement. Something he couldn't place was in her half-hidden eyes; a sense of foreboding, seeping like tar from her still form, pulling in the walls surrounding him and turning the flow of time into a slog through molasses.

As the minutes went by, he was unable to move even a finger.

And then she spoke.

"You shouldn't have let go."

Her words were barely a whisper, and Shinji's heart wanted to implode on the spot. The shadow of a smile flashed over her face as she lifted her chin – then she closed her eyes and stretched out her neck.

This was a dream. It had to be. A trick his mind was playing him, punishment for being angry at her before. The real Asuka was far away, walking through lush forests, free from his destructive influence. She had probably already forgotten all about him by now, and soon ...

His face scrunched up, lips peeling back to reveal clenched teeth. Asuka was already gone. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hands, he somehow maintained enough control to keep standing. He wished that there was something he could say, some kind of magical formula that would make everything better, but he knew that was impossible. She was so much smarter than him. She would take his words and twist them around as soon as they left his mouth, using them against him until he had nothing left to say, and then she would get her will.

Through the mist, she looked even more like an apparition. Drawn to the golden copper shine, he went to his knees behind her. He reached for her neck with trembling hands, but her hair was in the way. Carefully, he combed it to her back. Instead of silk, grease stuck to his fingers.

His fingertips brushed her skin, picking up hints of warmth, and he knew he wouldn't be able to do it and remain sane. And yet, he had no choice. He owed her at least this much. After everything he had done to her, he couldn't deny her this act of kindness.

He moved his hands upwards a little, feeling her sinews, her jawbone and her trachea, rigid under his gently squeezing fingers. Her heartbeat quickened; her chest was heaving slightly stronger, too. His fingers were moved along by her throat as she swallowed, renewing the sensation of skin on skin. He shifted them slightly, making the layer of sweat that formed in between obvious, and Asuka tensed - as if to ask what was taking him so long.

That proved to be too much. He wouldn't be able to bear another Kaworu. A weight lifted from his shoulders as he slowly retracted his hands and rested them on his legs. Never again would he take another life.

For a moment she remained still, then her shoulders sagged and Shinji heard her sigh. Her obvious disappointment killed his relief in an instant. He wanted to scream at her and punch her and bring her back to her senses that way, but he knew that would never work.

She seemed to wither before his eyes – she was leaving, and every fiber of his body screamed at him to not let it happen again.

Still on his knees, he shifted closer towards her, until his front almost touched her back. His vision had grown dim and his heart hammered in his chest, so much so that his hands trembled in tune as he began to reach for her. Even if he was about to overstep his boundaries – what difference did it make at this point?

With halting movements, he maneuvered his hands between her arms and torso. Her elbows twitched aside as he touched the inside of her naked arms; her back straightened and she grew taut. Moving his hands further, he let them hover for a moment, before he finally, and very carefully, took her into a gentle embrace.

Asuka grew stiff as a board. Despite that, he pulled her a little closer and rested his chin on her bony shoulder, feeling her matted hair cling to his cheek. He kept the contact light, too afraid to truly commit. He had never appreciated just how lightly built she really was – confronted with her overbearing presence, he could have sworn that she was not only larger, but also far stronger than him. Now that he held her in his arms, she seemed so small – fragile, even. He could clearly feel her ribs under his fingers, and the bones of her back against his chest.

And yet, there was so much warmth in her scrawny body. He didn't even try to fight his tears this time, because for once, they weren't bitter. He could not remember the last time he had been so close to anybody, if he ever was. He hadn't realized how much he missed this; how much he needed it. And then, as he felt the tension slowly bleed from her body, none of his thoughts mattered anymore – he simply let go and gave himself over to the moment completely.

* * *

He wished for this moment to last forever. His embrace continued for a long time, but at some point, her odor became overpowering. The smell of stale sweat, of the rancid oil in her hair and of iron filled his nostrils, and above all, a tangy, bittersweet note hung in the air, which made his cheeks turn hot and his heartbeat accelerate. His gaze went dull as he found himself unable to move or speak – and neither could he suppress his body's reaction. He didn't even notice that his tears had stopped.

And then it struck him: She hadn't rejected him yet. His mouth suddenly felt like sandpaper; goosebumps rippled over his skin. Maybe this was his chance. His chance to show her how he truly felt. That despite everything, he didn't hate her. That he meant what he had said in Instrumentality.

His left thumb twitched upwards, briefly touching something it shouldn't have. An image flashed in his mind, and new heat rose to his head. He wasn't Kaji, and she had been afraid back then, just as he was right now, but … if he was careful enough, then maybe …

He moved his right hand down, resting it on her thigh to keep it from shaking. He knew this specific combination of adrenaline and anxiety: there was an Angel just around the corner. Willing himself to focus on being gentle despite his twitching muscles, he let his hand glide towards her waist. Her shirt got dragged up, revealing a gap between her skin and shorts where they stretched over her hip bones.

His fingertips touched naked skin. So warm and soft … It carried the promise of something he longed for, but never dared to hope for.

And even now, she didn't reject him.

He tried to move his hand down just a tiny bit, to feel more of her intoxicating warmth, but the grease on her skin made smooth movements impossible. With a jerk, two of his digits slid into the gap, finding themselves resting in the warm crease of her leg. Pressure built in his head. God, he would only have to move his fingers a little further to the left now. One of them dared to stretch towards his goal.

She flinched, and he almost let go of her entirely. Strained seconds passed before his shock began to wear off. If it weren't for his conviction that this was his one and only chance, he would have run away long ago. Instead, he curled his fingers around the hem of her shirt. His heart was about to explode. All of this was moving much too fast for him; he should go back to touching her somewhere safe for now.

Slowly he slid his fingers under her shirt – he didn't want to lose the feeling of her skin. He would embrace her once more, and then, he could maybe even try to talk to her, or … His hand began moving towards her belly. A ridge appeared on her skin, and -

Asuka's hand slapped onto his wrist, clutching it tightly and yanking it down in one swift movement, pressing his palm against her thigh. The sound of strained breathing reached his ears: the inhale snappy, the exhale barely audible.

It took a second for the meaning of the action to sink in – and her presence lost all its allure in an instant. In panic, Shinji leaned backwards and tried to pull his still free left arm away, but she trapped it between hers and her ribcage, and Shinji froze in an instant.

Her breathing changed it's rhythm: the emphasis shifted to a long exhale, and Shinji tried to make himself as small as possible. While she seemed to only consist of barely controlled rage before, he now sensed deliberate, brooding hatred emanating from her. He could have pulled himself free, but that would have meant using force he wasn't willing to direct against her. The only thing he _was_ willing to do was disappear on the spot, but she wouldn't let him.

Her grip on his wrist grew weaker, and after a short pause, she let go. Shinji saw his chance. Trying to disturb her as little as possible, he began to gingerly lift his hand. Not even half of its weight had left her leg when she jerked her shoulders backwards. She didn't hit him, but the aggression of the gesture was enough to arrest his movements. She turned her head slightly, threatening to face him, and Shinji gave up on any further attempts to flee.

Without letting go of his arm, Asuka leaned forward and grabbed the bottle he brought her earlier. She drank half of it in one go, then she went for the snacks.

Shinji shrunk away from her as much as he could, tightly sealing his lips and barely allowing himself to breathe. The minutes stretched on as Asuka was busy eating and drinking, apparently ignoring him completely.

He knew he had finally done it. He had taken that final step to truly make himself irredeemable. A sob escaped his lips, and Asuka went still for a moment. He bit down hard on his lower lip. Convulsions shook his body, but when he managed to remain silent, Asuka slowly resumed eating.

* * *

She leaned back into him after she had finished all the food in front of her. Shinji tried to squirm away, but a quick half turn of her head was enough to discourage him, and she rested her back against his chest. His crying and trembling stopped some time ago – he was simply too exhausted, and even felt relief. He had hit rock bottom; there was no way that things could get worse.

That was until Asuka grabbed his wrist again, rose to her feet and demanded that he did as well by pulling his arm upwards.

Reluctantly he obeyed her, trying to ignore the numbness in his legs. She waited for him to come to his feet. Shinji didn't dare to raise his gaze, fixing it on his feet as she turned to him. He could feel her linger on him. Then she got moving, leading him away from the living room.

At first he thought she was heading to the balcony, and couldn't suppress a pang of fear. But soon enough, it became clear to him that she had other plans. Fear rose to panic as she dragged him into the bedroom.

She left him for a moment to close the door, and Shinji made one final attempt to work up the courage to flee. Asuka’s shadow was visible on the floor, inside the rectangle of light formed by the frame. As the rectangle grew slimmer and slimmer, the small window became the only source of illumination.

Then, the door clicked shut, and the room was left in orange twilight.

* * *

Asuka held onto the door handle, turning her gaze towards her belly, where Shinji's sweaty hand had made her shirt damp. She hadn't even been able to truly feel it, as her skin was still numb. Her throat constricted at the thought that he must have discovered her scars through the thin fabric – there was simply no way he hadn't.

And yet, he held her. After she overcame the shock of his unbidden embrace, and once his tears had stopped, his presence felt large and comforting, not at all like Shinji. There was still a slight tingling where his fingers had been. She did not want to soil the memories of Mama, but the warmth radiating from him, combined with the sensations stirred inside her and the feeling of being held from behind … The experience had been too close to the way she felt inside her Eva to not make the comparison. She had needed all her willpower to rein her emotions in, and nearly lost control at one point – but at least he didn't seem to have noticed her struggle.

Briskly turning around, she took in the sight of Shinji, who was not daring to move in obvious fear, and anger flared up in her again. She didn't want him to be afraid. She wanted to punch his face in, feel his split, bloody lips under her fists, drive him into the ground and kick him again when he was down. How could he be so cruel to show her what he could give her, only to immediately take it away from her again by reverting to his useless self? She had done nothing to _truly_ discourage him, so why was he so terrified of her now? Why did he have to try to touch her scars? Why couldn't he just - why couldn't things be easy, just for once?!

Biting down on her anger she went to him. She knew that she would drive him away with her wrath eventually, that he would shrink away before her until there was nothing left. But there was no doubt in her mind that he would never find the courage to come to her on his own again. So she had to make him – and after everything he had done he had no right to refuse her, no matter how repugnant and ugly and hateful she had become.

"Sh-" She wanted to say his name, but only managed a hiss. She saw him duck his head between his shoulders and balled her fists.

Suppressing the urge to hit him or run away, she gave him a slight shove – then another when he didn't get the hint. He crawled under the sheets, and she entered behind him, making sure to pull the blanket over both of them. He curled up on his side, facing the wall, but Asuka grabbed his shoulder and turned him onto his back. Then she tugged at his shirt. His eyes darted to hers, and she gave him one stern nod.

She began to undress when he was halfway through unbuttoning his shirt. Hers stayed on. The confined space under the covers forced them into a prolonged, awkward struggle, every involuntary contact causing them to jerk away from one another, with Asuka needing most of her attention to keep the blanket in place.

An uncomfortable pause ensued after they finished. Shinji was staring at the ceiling, and for once, Asuka didn't mind. She had thought about doing this for quite some time, but for all her bravado, this was the first time the opportunity actually presented itself. The risk she was going to take was obvious and grave. Maybe she wasn't even ready yet – then again, she hadn't truly been ready to almost die while diving into a volcano, to be bathed in acid, to be dismembered and killed, or to have her mind invaded by that -

Her expression grew stern, and she rolled onto her side, fixing her eyes on Shinji's flushed face. He had started this – she would see it through to the end.

She reached for him, following the contours of his body downwards. His cupped hands were in the way. Pushing her fingers under his, she found what she was looking for.

A shiver ran through him, and he drew strained breaths through his nose. At least it seemed like he was still interested. Asuka felt her own cheeks turn hot, doing her utmost to let no emotions show on her face. This wasn't entirely new: she had felt … She had felt _him_ against her back the whole time.

His hands hesitantly gave way as she explored further. She didn't get very far – after mere seconds, he tensed. Something warm and sticky coated her palm, and Asuka froze. Shinji pressed his eyes shut and turned his head away, his hands feebly grabbing hers.

Hollowness grew in her stomach. She couldn't believe that, after talking herself into this so thoroughly, this was supposed to be it. Despite his insult, part of her was glad: maybe she didn't need to do this right now. Then again, she was pretty sure there wouldn't be a second chance. If she stopped now, Shinji would not let her come close ever again.

She could not take another humiliating defeat like this. The dead world outside was leering at her, beckoning her with visions of curling up in the undergrowth to die, like the mangy animal she was. She had almost given in to the impulse after the bath house, before the last glimmers of pride had forced her to at least make one final attempt at … at escape. She didn't know what she had expected to find upon her return, but she had been sure there would be an ending, one way or another.

This abortive non-solution was simply unacceptable. She considered making another attempt right away, or maybe settling for something else, but her well trained mind already began offering her solutions that would place all blame squarely on him. Her expression darkened; her eyes didn't really notice what was in front of them any longer. It would be frighteningly easy to break him completely now without lifting a finger. A few well placed words would be enough to take them back to the beach.

So lost was she in her brooding that it came as a complete surprise to her when Shinji took the decision from her: she felt him growing stiff again.

So he _was_ still interested.

After a moment's hesitation, she wiped her palm on the bed sheet and climbed on top of him, making sure there was no contact as she braced herself on elbows and knees. He reeked. Even his brow was covered in sweat.

She reached for his chin. He only offered weak resistance as she turned his head to make him face her.

Shinji's eyes haltingly fluttered open, and Asuka found herself unable to look away. Despite herself, she felt her heart sting, and it took her a lot of effort to keep most of it from showing on her face.

Those harried eyes were the same that had been staring at her from the mirror in the bathhouse. Gone was the shy but good-natured and sometimes outright heroic little boy, always trying to be kind, and gone was the wounded animal lashing out at her, finally using its strength to enact revenge against its tormentors. Right now, he was entirely at her mercy – defenseless, even. A silent plea lay in his haunted eyes.

Asuka's expression turned glum. Of course he was afraid of her. He had never been this close to anybody – going by his memories, that one hug Misato had given him was the first he received in many years. He had made attempts which always ended in failure. The image of his teacher awkwardly hiding his hands in his pockets whenever Shinji cried as a child was vivid in her mind.

But even though his eyes betrayed how starved he was, it was clear that he didn't really want it now. Maybe he was afraid that this would end like that kiss Misato had forced on him, or the one they shared before … After everything that happened between them, it was a miracle that he didn't outright flee her at first sight. And yet, this had once been the boy who thought of her as everything he ever dreamed – and Asuka wished that she could still see herself that way.

Resting all her weight on her left elbow, not breaking the eye contact and closely watching his reactions, she slowly moved her right hand to his cheek. She truly hoped that the gesture would make him understand, not make him cry. She just had to let him know.

To her relief, there were no tears. He just opened his mouth a little and widened his eyes as she touched him. The worst of his terror seemed to fade from his eyes, and as her fingers, almost on their own, moved to increase the contact with his skin, an idea began to grow in her mind.

Not letting go of his cheek, she shifted her weight to her other side, lightly grabbed his wrist and guided it towards her own. He didn't resist her – so maybe she could make him understand that he didn't have to.

Hesitating for a long moment, she let go of his wrist.

She saw Shinji swallow, his hand hovering not an inch away from her face. The air in between already carried a hint of his body heat to her.

And then, he gently touched her face.

She had to suppress the urge to jerk away from his fingers as they caressed her with a small tremble. Warmth began to seep into her skin, seemed to grow and spread, and only then did she realize how desperately she had been missing such tenderness.

Ten long years had passed since Mama died.

Her hands hit the mattress and Asuka jolted upright, the blanket slipping from her shoulders. Drawing strained gasps and pressing her eyes shut, she rubbed her cheek hard to remove the lingering sensation.

Slowly she brought her breathing under control. Then she sank down, ignoring that the move made their genitals touch. The unfamiliar feeling was at least distracting her as she nestled into him and felt his stiffness.

She fixed Shinji in her gaze again. Fear had returned to his eyes, and they darted to the door for a split second. Her lips grew thin. Enough fooling around. Just moments ago he had agreed, there was no changing his mind now.

She moved her hands to the hem of her shirt. After a slight delay, Shinji understood and shut his eyes.

Not letting him out of her sights, Asuka lifted her shirt. It felt like peeling the shell off a bug. She hadn't taken it off since the bathhouse, not willing to look at her mutilated flesh again. But right now, she wanted her body to feel as much as it could, and Shinji would provide what she needed.

She pulled her head out of her shirt as swiftly as possible to minimize the moment of blindness, confirming that his eyes were still closed immediately afterwards. Of course they were. He wouldn't dare. Just to be sure, she draped the blanket over her shoulders again and closed it in front.

Only one thing left to do now. Shinji flinched as she lifted her buttocks and reached down again. While she bent him upwards and maneuvered into position, Misato's words came to her mind: That's not for children, she had said. But neither was fighting and dying and having the burden of protecting mankind placed on their shoulders, yet curiously enough, Saint Katsuragi hadn't deemed it necessary to wring her hands when she sent her to her death – and wanting to do _that_ Shinji was hardly the appropriate thing to do with a _child_. No, being referred to as Children was the biggest lie they were ever told. They were everything but, and she wouldn't take sagely advice from a drunken slob like Misato.

She felt Shinji strain against the mattress as she began to slowly push her pelvis down. A slight hiss escaped her lips. She knew the first time would hurt, but she hadn't expected so much friction. Either way, she wouldn't be deterred. She had felt far worse – this was nothing in comparison. Deciding to prove her point, she pushed him all the way in with one swift movement.

Sharp pain shot through her insides. She clenched her eyes shut and grit her teeth, breathing heavily through her nose to calm herself. Slowly, the realization sank in that she had just given away her virginity.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Her first time should have been with Kaji – it should have been a great moment, another triumph on her vast lists of achievements, not an act of desperation with a boy who was not much more than a frightened little child.

But Kaji wasn't there for her anymore, and her achievements had amounted to nothing. She wasn't giving anything away, either: her hymen had been torn years ago, during a week of especially demanding physical exercise.

All of it was just a stupid, childish notion anyways.

She shifted her position slightly and groaned as another jolt of pain raced through her, branching out through her scars. Involuntarily, her hand jerked to her cramped belly, and she was forced to bend over. God, why did it have to hurt so much. Leaning forward seemed to ease the pain somewhat, and she let herself sink down onto his chest. Burying her face in the pillow, she reached for his head and held onto his hair, waiting for him to do something. After a few seconds, she realized he wouldn't.

"Hold me."

Her snarl had him move in an instant, as if he had been wishing to do so the whole time. So strong was his grip that Asuka immediately struggled against it, unable to bear feeling trapped like this, and Shinji let go of her just as quickly.

She pushed herself up, placing her right hand on his breastbone in a way that the crook of her thumb was just below his Adam's apple, leaning into him and using her weight to hold him in place, before guiding his arms to her back with her free hand.

Shinji apparently understood her intent, as he only embraced her lightly once she let go of his arms and sank onto his chest again.

She allowed herself a few more minutes of getting used to the intrusion. Her hand wandered to his cheek again as she became aware of the feeling of his chest against hers. His breathing became a little calmer, but he didn't stop trembling. Maybe it was excitement.

Before her pain had fully subsided, she pushed herself to hands and knees and began moving. It didn't take long for her body to protest, still weak from her journey, and she had to pause. Supporting herself on her elbows instead, she worked up to a steady rhythm, using her momentum to conserve energy.

This was nothing like she had expected, and already it became clear to her that this would be a test of her endurance. But when Shinji began to reluctantly meet the movements of her hips with his own, something changed. On an impulse, she reached for his face. He clenched his eyes harder, but she shook him slightly, and finally, he looked up.

She didn't know why, but he didn't try to evade her gaze this time. In fact, his eyes were glued to hers, and something in them spurned her on to renew her efforts. Suppressed panting filled the room, both of them remaining silent as best they could. Dull aches returned to her scars, but those weren't enough to make her lose focus.

Ever more powerful her movements became, until Shinji suddenly slipped out of her. Hastily she put him back in, as she had finally felt _something_ good in all this, and wasn't willing to let it drain away again.

She tried to be more careful, but as time stretched on and her frustration mounted, it became harder and harder to keep going – but she had to. Even animals could do this. There was nothing complicated about this. She just needed to push forward. Shinji wouldn't do it for her, and he didn't need to. She never needed him to: all she had needed was a little more willpower, a little more strength, and then – then her Eva would have moved again and she would have won.

She bared her teeth. She would show them. Yes, she died, but she never gave up. They didn't beat her. They couldn't. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders. They defiled her, they violated her, but she repaid them in kind, every single step of the way – and she would repay him, too. She didn't feel her pain anymore. She would take everything she wanted. Too often, things had been out of her control. But not this time – and never again.

A sound escaped her throat, somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and she bit into his shoulder to remain silent, unwilling to share or admit to her little triumph, as the wave – built up for far too long – reached a sudden and almost painful peak, before finally crashing down into release. She felt herself contracting tightly around him, her body refusing to let go, even pulling him deeper in. Pressing her thighs into his sides, clutching his head and reinforcing her contractions as best as she could, she gave in to this urge, trying to extend her shallow climax, which crumbled away far too quickly and threatened to give way to exhaustion.

But Asuka wanted more, wanted to spend herself completely, unwilling to give into the tingling, treacherously soothing tiredness her body tried to force upon her. Despite already feeling sore and the aches returning to her scars and exhausted muscles, she began anew, and the body below her hesitantly answered her movements.

She had just found her rhythm again when it was disturbed by a moan and the beginnings of a whispered sentence. Her hand shot to his mouth and held it shut. She wouldn't allow any interruptions now.

Only moments later, he reflexively thrust deeper into her, holding that position, and Asuka felt something warm spilling into her insides. The surprise of having taken another part of him for herself only lasted for a second – then an urgent warning began to gnaw at the back of her mind.

As she felt Shinji slacken beneath her, her fatigue gained the upper hand. Completely worn out, she slumped down on top of him and lifted her hand off his mouth, which prompted him to inhale sharply. His hands were still on her back, holding her close, and Asuka saw no way she could continue to struggle any longer. Too tired to flee, and seeking reassurance in an effort to battle her rising doubts, she closed her eyes, threaded her fingers into his hair and rested her cheek against his.

This was just a distraction, something to make her feel good, just a little bit of pleasure that she was owed. She wasn't like Misato – a slut seeking comfort in the arms of men, recklessly giving away her body to feel like she was worth something. Mama would never forgive her if she ever sank so low.

As if Shinji had heard her thoughts, she felt his hold tightening a little. Maybe he was just desperate or afraid, but he made no effort to get away from her. He also wasn't trying to pull out, was instead slowly growing soft inside her, and it was a curiously soothing feeling as the rough movements of just prior were replaced by tenderness.

Asuka had to swallow repeatedly to fight down the urge to cry. Clutching Shinji more tightly, she nestled into him, trying to convince herself that, maybe, it was okay to stay a little longer.

* * *

Shinji was terrified of letting go, caught between the high of his own release and the cold realization that Asuka clearly got hurt by it. He cursed his treacherous body and his inability to hold himself in check – and he knew it was his fault, even though she had been in control the whole time. He didn't know what to do, but she had told him to hold her, so he gently strengthened his embrace. She swallowed, and slight convulsions ran through her body. It seemed as if he had made everything worse. He was about to reverse course when she shifted her position slightly and clung to him even more strongly.

He felt a hint of relief, but not enough to soothe him. Everything was simply too much for him. Her smell, her breath near his ear, her warmth – being … inside her ... There seemed to be almost no separation between them any longer – and all he wanted was to push her away and run, didn't matter where. Distance – that's what he needed. Distance and time to see clearly again. But he couldn't leave her. Not like this – not when her fingers curled in his hair, gently caressing his scalp. Not when her cheek was resting against his. Not when she so clearly needed something to hold onto.

A shiver ran through her, and he responded by moving his hands on her back by a minuscule amount, too afraid to truly stroke her. If it were up to him, he would have tried to repeat what they had done before, when she had allowed him to see into her eyes and touch her cheek. But he couldn't risk introducing any disturbance now.

He hated to see her like this. It drove a spike through his heart – even more so because he knew there was no way he was the one she wanted to be close to. When she made him look at her the second time, he saw it in her eyes: after first being fixed on him with frightening tenacity, made even more terrifying by her bloodshot left, they became distant. Whatever was going through her head, it was only vaguely related to him. The realization was painful – but if he was honest with himself, it was better that way. By all rights, he didn't deserve being with her, and he was terrified of the prospect. Contrary to what she said in Instrumentality, he knew that staying with her would hurt the most.

But he would not run away any longer.

* * *

He couldn't tell how long it took, or how often the brittle balance seemed in danger – when her breathing grew irregular or her hands twitched – but eventually, her body slackened. It took him a few minutes to realize that she had fallen asleep. With a deep sigh, he finally allowed himself to relax. His ordeal was over for now – he just prayed that he would not wake her up when the nightmares returned, as he suddenly became aware of how tired and exhausted he truly was.

His eyes fell shut on their own. Asuka's soft, regular breathing and the feeling of her skin against his, now devoid of the danger that always radiated from her when she was awake, calmed his raw nerves and made him appreciate how lucky he was to be here. Maybe he had even managed to do the right thing for once by holding her.

Maybe everything would be different now.

And even if not – he still had this moment. Maybe it was the first and only time in his life he was ever allowed so incredibly close to her, or any girl for that matter. He knew it was just an attempt at escape, but maybe he could forget about the past for one moment and give into the delusion that he deserved this little reward; that Asuka stayed with him because she still cared about him.

His hand wanted to go up her back, to rest more comfortably – and Shinji let it. There were irregularities on her skin. There was a scar on her forehead as well. It nagged him, but he didn't want to question why they were there. The answer would not be pleasant, and after everything he had to endure, he felt he deserved that small comfort.

As sleep slowly took him, he allowed himself to enjoy embracing Asuka a little tighter. Maybe this could be his secret. The one thing he kept for himself, tucked away in the darkest corner of his heart. Nobody had to ever know how he felt ... right?

* * *

The first thing Asuka became aware of when she awoke the next morning was the fact that she was not alone. Only after that did she begin to feel the soreness in her crotch and muscles, the almost unbearable, tacky heat under the blanket and the whiff of air cooling her leg, which was sticking out from under the sheets. Her body had become accustomed to her current position, not protesting against the proximity to Shinji she found herself in.

Disturbing this cozy state of rest, she raised her head and saw that Shinji was awake as well. She had slid halfway off of him in the night, but apparently never let go of him. One of his arms was still slung around her back. Something like peace dominated his features, but slowly started to fade the longer she looked at him.

Her first instinct told her to immediately jump to her feet, leave the apartment and never look back. But then she would have to be alone with her thoughts, in a ruined, lifeless world.

She tugged at the blanket, so that both her legs were now free and enjoyed a little cooling, then she returned her head to its previous position on Shinji's chest – having to tilt it slightly so that her neural connector would not get pushed out of her hair – seeking to bring it back into the same comfort the rest of her body still felt.

When he hesitantly moved his free hand and gingerly placed it on her lower back, her body grew tense, shattering the illusion of tranquility. Danger was emanating from his touch, threatening to make her lose control the way she had last night, but the longer she stayed still, the more successful his warmth became in convincing her that she should permit herself to carefully indulge in it. Allowing a modicum of strain to bleed out of her muscles, she eased slightly into the feeling of closeness, shying away again as it became too frightening. Cautiously testing how far she could go, she eventually reached an acceptable distance, a precarious balance of wary control and guarded relaxation, just enough to permit her to not only be in contact, but actually _feel_ him.

The blanket became a shroud, enveloping her in an aura of pure, unfiltered corporeity. Shinji was breathing and sweating and he smelled badly – just like her. Never had she felt more removed from the incorporeal experience of Instrumentality, and never again did she want to doubt her physical existence. She would be able to wash off sweat and grime and bodily secretions – and Shinji's skin was still a barrier impenetrable to her thoughts, as was hers to his. No matter how close their bodies came into contact with one another, nothing could ever repeat what that Angel and Instrumentality had done to her. If it took something like this to prove it to herself beyond any doubt, then she had no choice but to bear it.

She knew she would get used to it. Just like she had gotten used to the unpleasant smell of LCL and the grainy residues it always seemed to leave in her hair, no matter how thoroughly she rinsed it, or cold feeling of nakedness every time she left the entry plug and – what she understood far too late to be – Mama's embrace. Like she had grown accustomed to the sensation of nearly suffocating when she bent down afterwards to let the spent LCL flow out of her lungs, and had wait for hours for her body to absorb the remainder, allowing her to breathe without the taste of blood sticking to her tongue and nostrils.

She moved her hand to Shinji's ribs and held onto him as she realized that she would never be able to experience any of that ever again, and that Shinji was possibly the only one left who would truly be able to understand why she would even miss it.

She felt him relax slightly, somewhat alleviating her fear that he was as disgusted by her state as she was. Slowly the events of last night came back to her, raising questions she couldn't answer and didn't want to either. She angled her leg and shifted it on top of both of his, hoping that she would never have to talk about what had taken place yesterday.

* * *

Eventually, the humid heat under the covers became too much to bear. Hunger and thirst added to her restlessness, and Asuka lifted her head slightly to survey the room. Their clothing lay scattered about; going by the intensity of the sunlight, it was almost noon.

Shinji had been following her gaze. Apparently he realized what she wanted, but he made no attempt to get it to her. Asuka rolled off of him and wrapped herself in the sheets, leaving him naked behind her back.

She heard him stand up, and hid her head under the blanket while he moved about the room. His soft footsteps were interrupted by the sound of the wardrobe being opened and the rustling of clothes, and a little later, he placed something on the bed beside her.

His footsteps moved away, and after the door closed with a click, Asuka risked a glance. Shinji had left. The room was clean again, and fresh clothes were on the bed. He had brought a whole selection for her: long and short pants, three sets of panties, two pairs of socks, a whole assortment of bras, a blue tank-top and a white, long-sleeved dress shirt.

Sitting up, she hugged her knees to her chest and drew the blanket closer around her shoulders, staring at the orderly pile. The long-sleeved shirt seemed suspicious. He had seen her scarred arm yesterday. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on her knees. He had felt everything else, too. Of course he wanted her to hide it.

* * *

He looked up from the kitchen table when she entered, his eyes going up and down her body quickly, before returning to her face. Her gaze went to her naked feet. She had chosen the long-sleeved shirt after all, in addition to the tank-top and the short summer pants, but forewent a bra. She hadn't buttoned up her shirt and was hiding her scarred hand inside the cuff; only her knuckles were showing.

Asuka felt the urge to break the silence, but a disquieting boding held her back. With tightly sealed lips she shot Shinji a wary glance. He was still shyly looking at her, trying to read her expression.

Unbidden, her own smell became noticeable to her again. She sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose, lowering her head to hide her face. The cleanliness of her clothes only served as a reminder of how dirty she was.

"I … I'll get you some water."

She grit her teeth, but still nodded quietly.

As soon as he left the apartment, she went to the fridge to quench her thirst. Searching the cupboards, she found a few packets of peanuts. She had trouble ripping them open, and was only halfway through one of them when Shinji returned with two buckets of water, visibly straining under the heavy load. As soon as he reappeared in the bathroom door, she pushed past him and drew it shut behind herself.

An electric camping lantern dimly illuminated the room with sterile, artificial light, so unpleasant that it gave Asuka the impression that her good eye had suffered damage as well.

She tried to ignore her raggedy image in the mirror as she took stock of the things Shinji had placed on the counter above the sink. Besides soap, toothbrushes and paste, he had found a hairbrush, a manicure case, lipstick, eyeliner … It looked as if he had plundered a beauty parlor – and all Asuka could think was: Why?

She opened a drawer and tossed all of the useless stuff inside, before hurriedly shedding her clothing and stepping into the bathtub. Using a towel drenched in the icy water he had brought her and some soap, she hastily washed herself, unwilling to look at what she was doing. She didn't dare to touch her hair: it was so tangled and greasy that she didn't even know if she could save it. Instead, she gave extra attention to her crotch, which was still covered in her and his viscous secretions.

She felt sick just thinking about it now. He actually came inside her, without protection. She made him do it. The terrible thought of pregnancy forced her to look at her mutilated abdomen, the sight of which turned her stomach.

Her features distorted into a wry, bitter parody of a grin. The danger was purely imaginary: she would not be able to conceive, not with a body like this, and Shinji wasn't man enough to actually do it anyway. She had been wrong: she wasn't like Misato at all. Misato was still a complete woman, and the scar on her chest was nothing compared to her own disfigurement. Misato only thought of herself as worthless – Asuka knew it to be true.

Pain stung lightly in her right foot, and she sat down on the edge of the bathtub, turning her sole upwards to have a look. The small cut she had suffered still hadn't closed completely. Grime had accumulated in it: old blood and lint from the socks she had worn. The edge of the wound was slightly reddened.

She contemplated leaving it as is, then decided differently and searched the drawers. There actually was a first aid kit in one of them. Using the pointed nail scissors from the manicure case, she began by scratching out the grime. It made the wound bleed again, but she grit her teeth and continued until she was satisfied. Applying hydrogen peroxide felt even worse. She watched the solution bubble into white foam, then she wiped it away with a sterile pad and placed a band-aid over the cut.

She should have brought socks, if only to hide the band aid from Shinji. Not that it mattered after last night. Part of her still couldn't believe what had happened – the thoughts she had … She thoroughly degraded herself. She couldn't fathom why he had embraced her. If there had been any doubts left in his mind about who she truly was, those were surely gone by now. It was a miracle he was still there in the morning. It was not what she would have done. Her fingernails dug into her palms. She would have been kind enough to spare him the humiliation of being pitied.

The sound of Shinji pulling back a chair in the kitchen snapped her out of her thoughts, and she roughly wiped her eyes. Despite everything, they were still dry. Carelessly stuffing the first aid kit away in the drawer first, she dried herself off, and got dressed again. Her appetite was gone, but she needed to eat. She hadn't known hunger almost all her life – now she did.

* * *

Shinji had just sat down as the door to the bathroom was pulled open. Knowing Asuka, he had hoped for a longer period of respite before he had to face his misdeeds again.

"I'm hungry."

Shinji clenched his fist, nodding in assent while keeping his eyes fixed on his lap. "I can … cook fry some vegetables and …"

"Just hurry."

Her voice was awfully quiet. It didn't even sound angry, and for some reason, that made everything worse. Becoming aware that her gaze rested on the back of his head, he jumped to his feet and hurried to the counter, grabbed the gas cooker, setting it up on the balcony to heat some water.

* * *

A few minutes later, silence stretched as they ate in the kitchen. Shinji had settled on cup noodles to not waste any time, even though it felt wrong to offer only instant food to Asuka. She didn't seem to mind, though, and Shinji watched in relief while she greedily filled her stomach. He took a big bite, not feeling as guilty as before for eating something himself.

Halfway through her fourth cup, she suddenly put it down on the table and held her stomach.

Shinji quickly swallowed. Maybe the food had been spoiled. "Is … is everything alright?"

Asuka just shot him a look that seemed to ask how he could even think something so stupid, and he quickly averted his gaze.

She cut off his apology before he could utter it.

"You smell terrible. Clean yourself up."

He nodded frantically and fled to the bathroom.

Against his expectations, Asuka had left one of the buckets untouched. Starting with washing his hair and upper body, he noticed that the bite mark Asuka left on his shoulder had turned dark red. Thankfully, she hadn't broken his skin with her teeth.

Yesterday, he felt proud of it. And of … doing it with her. All the boys from school would have been so jealous. Against his will, he was already turning stiff again due to the memory. He was such a deranged, perverted, disgusting – he couldn't even find the words to adequately describe himself. He had used her for pleasure again. He had made her cry. And all the boys from school were dead because of him.

Roughly scrubbing down his crotch, he finished his bath, got dressed again and returned to Asuka, deeply ashamed to even be in her presence.

He found her playing with a tress of her hair, but she stopped when he entered.

"You got shampoo?"

He nodded, adding a quiet yes when he realized that she wasn't going to look in his direction.

"Then get me some more water."

He nodded again and left. On the way down the stairs, he realized that her voice had still been much too soft.

* * *

This time around, Asuka didn't leave the bathroom for a long time. Shinji had hunkered down on the balcony, keeping himself out of her sight. It was the middle of the afternoon when he heard her tip-toeing into the kitchen. Soon, the irregular _ritch ritch_ of a brush being dragged through hair filled the quiet.

He wanted to join her so badly. Talk to her. In the morning, he truly hoped that something had changed. And maybe it did, but he didn't have the courage to find out, as he was now convinced that none of the change had been for the better.

Eventually, the noises from the kitchen stopped for longer than usual. Asuka was done, and Shinji pushed himself to his feet. His grace period was finally over.

He found Asuka still sitting at the table, resting her head on her arms and hiding her face. The afternoon light seemed to blend in all the colors, shifting them towards redness. The hairbrush was still in her right hand. A big ball of tangled hair lay besides it. Her red mane had obviously been groomed with great care and devotion and sprawled over her back and shoulders, held up by her interface headset. Her bangs covered the small scar he had seen on her forehead yesterday.

Carefully inching towards the table, Shinji couldn't shake the feeling of diving into magma again. Only that this time, there was no cable to hold onto. Asuka didn't react other than by shifting her position slightly, and, always trying to make as little noise as possible, he pulled back a chair and sat down opposite to her.

As soon as he did, Asuka spoke.

"I don't know if I can bear it."

Instantly, he let his head droop.

"I mean ... all of this." Not raising her head she pointed across the room in a wide arc. "I don't want you to ever ..." Thinking about her scars made her choke. She was sure that he hadn't seen them all last night, but still – he knew what she was like now. Her grip on the hairbrush tightened. Nothing she did could ever cover up what she had become.

Shinji stared into his lap, hoping his hair would hide his expression. She didn't have to conclude her sentence. He knew perfectly well what he had done to her against her will.

"Go ahead", she whispered. "Run away."

But Shinji didn't move. He saw no point. There was nowhere to run to.

Asuka's features hardened as she started to suspect that he was mocking her. He wouldn't even have the decency to be honest with her. Balling her fists tightly, she raised her head, expecting to see him sheepishly avoiding her. Instead, she found him hunched over in obvious defeat.

Asuka's gaze lost it's edge. Leaning back slightly, she joined Shinji in his brooding.

Motionless they sat, until the sun touched the horizon, coloring the sky crimson and orange, illuminating the clouds from below. By now, even the wind had died down. Dust was dancing in the sunrays shining through the gaps between the makeshift drapes and the wall, flowing around their sunken silhouettes.

A soft sound broke the silence as Asuka placed her hairbrush on the table.

"I don't want to be alone anymore."

Shinji's eyes went wide. They had sat in silence so long that even his anxiety had died away, but now it returned in full force. Her voice had been almost too faint to hear, and for a moment, he thought he misunderstood. He had seen in her thoughts that, a long time ago, there was something other than hatred she felt for him. But whichever part of that survived his many mistakes had surely been burned away by Instrumentality and … yesterday. Even if something remained, she would never admit to it. This had to be a trick – but he couldn't figure out what she could possibly gain from it.

Raising his gaze, he found himself locking eyes with her.

There was nothing in her gaze besides grim, joyless determination, and her expression left Shinji under no illusions that she had forgotten or forgiven anything. She wasn't admitting to anything, either – she was striking a deal with him. A deal without lofty promises or vain wishes: not a solemn bond – just a stubborn pact.

His own expression turned somber. With an almost imperceptible nod he agreed, even though he knew that there would be no turning back.

Asuka slowly stood up, not letting him out of her sights. Shinji came to his feet and held her gaze as she circled the table with wary movements, coming to a stop right in front of him. Unwittingly he held his breath as her piercing stare fixed him in position, its focus jumping from one of his pupils to the other, searching his face for any sign of deceit or treachery.

Eventually, her gaze left his eyes, and she reached for his wrist. He didn't try to pull away as her grip grew stronger, and let himself be guided by her as she dragged him out of the kitchen.

He stopped before the threshold to the bedroom, terrified of what lay ahead. He did not want to see Asuka hurt again, and didn't want to be the one responsible – and despite feeling selfish for it, he didn't want her to make him do it, either.

Asuka hesitated for a moment, then she turned around to face him, her eyebrows closely drawn together. The question she was asking became obvious to him as the corners of her eyes twitched, betraying the frailty underneath.

His fist repeatedly clenched and released again, then he took another step forward. He had agreed to this, hadn't he? No more running away. No more excuses.

Asuka watched him suspiciously, then she came closer, testing his resolve once more. Her hair caressed his face as she reached for the door handle, and, gently tipping his head towards her, Shinji closed his eyes and soaked himself in her scent, trying to calm down for what was to come.

Her lips softly brushed his ear. "We'll make everything better now", she whispered.

And then, she closed the door behind them, even though there was not a single soul on the whole planet who could have disturbed them.


End file.
